The Two in One in the Park
by ShaViva
Summary: Brennan and Booth are called in to investigate the remains of two victims arranged to portray a killer's twisted vision of a romantic forever. As they close in on the culprit they find themselves closing in on each other as well. AU early season 6. B
1. Crime

**The Two in One in the Park**

Author: ShaViva

Rating: T+

Content Warning: Adult themes, sexual situations, language, and some violence here and there.

Season: Speculative early Season 6; set early Feb 2012

Summary: Brennan and Booth are called in to investigate the remains of two victims arranged to portray a killer's twisted vision of a romantic forever. As they close in on the culprit they find themselves closing in on each other as well.

Classifications: Crime, Romance

Pairings: Brennan/Booth

Spoilers for: Very minor spoilers for The Woman in Limbo; The Woman in the Sand; Judas on a Pole; The Priest in the Churchyard; Stargazer in a Puddle; Harbingers in the Fountain; The Parts in the Sum of the Whole; The Boy with the Answer; The End in the Beginning.

Acknowledgements: Wikipedia, lots of other internet sites too numerous to mention, plus bonesfansonline transcripts.

Disclaimer: The Bones characters, storylines, etc aren't mine. I am unfortunately not associated in any way with the creators, owners, or producers of Bones or any of its media franchises. All publicly recognizable characters, settings, equipment, etc are the property of whoever owns them. The original characters and plot and anything else I made up are the property of me, the author. No copyright infringement is intended.

Copyright (c) 2010 ShaViva

* * *

**Authors Note:**

A couple of months ago my husband switched channels on the television and an episode of Bones was playing – the high school reunion one. I'd never watched the show before although I was aware it was out there but it interested me enough that I thought, why not? The humour and the complexity of both the forensic anthropology and the underlying relationships of the characters intrigued me immediately and I ended up spending the following three weeks working my way through the entire show from season one onwards. Wow, what a great show! How could I have not watched this years ago? I was super inspired and decided to attempt my own episode ... an AU speculation for an early episode of season 6.

I've written a number of Stargate fan fics before but this is obviously my first Bones fan fiction and I can only hope I've got the characters in character! Please let me know how I did because I have to say I'm very nervous posting this and have already started formulating all my excuses – I'm not an anthropologist or an FBI agent or an entomologist or a doctor of anything or ... well, you get the idea!

This isn't beta'd so all mistakes are mine and mine alone. Oh, and the story is all written so yes there is definitely an ending – it just needs editing and loose ends tidied up before I can post each chapter. Thanks for reading.

* * *

**Chapter 1: Crime**

"_You never lose by loving. You always lose by holding back." Barbara De Angelis _

It was her moans that woke him ... low and hoarse and repetitious in a way that suggested she'd been going for some time.

"Honey?" He shifted, or at least tried to. Panic began to settle in when he realised he couldn't move. Couldn't see either – at first his fears screamed 'blindness' but as his eyes adjusted he realised it was because they were somewhere very dark. As he listened to her keen without pause other elements of those sounds impinged on his own reality.

Pain.

Fear.

No, _beyond_ fear. Blind terror ... the kind you had to hide from inside your own mind.

"Honey," he tried again to reach her but she was consumed in her own world.

As the panic threatened to overwhelm him, to send him to that same haven from reality, the man focussed on the particulars of his situation. He was a man of reason, a man who believed in logic. If he could just figure out where they were, what had happened to them, then perhaps he would have what was needed to bring her back to him.

He was lying on a hard floor, probably concrete.

They were bound together. She was on top of him, her arms around his neck while his rested low across her back. There was rope around his wrists, tying them tightly into the embrace. It chaffed and burned inside wounds he didn't remember creating. Had she struggled to shift away, created the friction that had burned him?

More ropes secured him to the floor tightly enough that he could barely move. It was cold and really quiet – that along with the dark absence of windows suggested a basement or a deserted building of some kind.

How had they gotten there? The last thing he recalled with any clarity was the reception dinner at the hotel in Vegas. They'd been so ... excited, so happy. Who would have thought that someone like him would meet and then elope with the love of his life after only six months? His colleagues wouldn't have believed that he even knew what a soul mate was, let alone that he'd recognise her _and_ give in to the need to be with her forever. But he did know, he _had_ recognised her, and he couldn't have been happier than to be in Vegas with her doing what they'd planned to do.

The clank of metal on metal, the way she tensed and then began to struggle cut through the memories.

"Babe," he tightened his arms instinctively. "Come back to me."

Footsteps ... at first they sounded multi-directional until their focus emerged. Someone was heading towards them.

"Listen to me!" He squeezed hard, hard enough for her to cry out ... hard enough to return her to the here and now.

"Oh God," her voice was thick with tears. "You wouldn't wake up. I called and called but you wouldn't wake up. I thought he'd killed you."

"I'm here," he shifted to speak close to her ear. "I'm here Baby."

They were hyper aware of the footsteps now ... her heart was pounding inside her chest ... inside him, his own heart leaping forward to keep in time. He wished he could see her clearly, not just the slightly darker outline of her form against the darkness.

"Listen to me," he said again, speaking low and urgent. "If you get the chance, you run."

"No," she moaned it despairingly.

"_Yes_," he insisted. "You run, you get help. Promise me."

"I... ca-an't," she wailed.

Tears splashed down on his cheeks. He wanted to take the time to comfort her but the approaching footsteps robbed him of the opportunity. "I love you," he said with absolute conviction. "Whatever happens, it was worth it. Now promise me ... you'll leave me if there's any chance."

"Oh God," she sniffed, deep breaths pressing her chest into his as she tried to gain back control. "I ... I promise. I l-ove yo-ou toooo," she cried, tightening her arms around his neck. "Oh God, I'm so scared."

"I know babe, I know," he wanted to stroke her hair, run a hand down her back but the ropes made that impossible and the frustration was like a physical pain. "I am too."

"There's nothing to be scared of," a new voice intruded, the footsteps halting abruptly in front of them. "I have something for you both ... the ultimate gift."

"We don't want your gift," he shot back angrily. "Look, if you cut us loose we'll forget all of this. We won't tell anyone, we swear."

"The ultimate gift," the assailant said again, ignoring their pleas, his voice almost sing song like in its pitch and modulation.

"Then let her go," the man suddenly proposed. "Whatever you were going to ... give both of us, give it to me, alone."

"Ah," they could hear the smile in their assailant's voice. "_Yes. _I have chosen well. I cannot release her - the gift cannot exist unless you both share in it. But you don't need to fear for her or for yourself. The gift is for both of you ... _together_."

He heard new sounds ... metal scrapping over something ... it sounded vaguely familiar but he couldn't work out why.

"Please," he begged now, tears filling his own eyes and overflowing to pool on the floor beneath his head. "Don't do this."

"When you experience the gift you will thank me," the assailant promised.

"What gift?" she demanded abruptly, her anger giving her the courage to speak. "What are you giving us?"

"_Forever_," the assailant returned reverently. His steps shifted away, the unknown of his actions driving the fear and despair up a notch.

Tightening his arms around her, he held them both together. "Listen to my voice," he spoke into her ear urgently, "you hear me? _My_ voice! Not him. You're everything baby ... _everything_ that ever meant anything."

He felt her lips trembling against his neck before she pressed a desperate kiss to his lips.

He felt the movement of air, heard the sound of something approaching fast, and then there was nothing.

* * *

_It was wrong ... that lovers should ever be parted. Wrong. And it was his job to make it right._

* * *

She wasn't comfortable. As Doctor Temperance Brennan frowned down at the research paper she was trying to edit her mind was overtaken again by the simple truth of that. She'd been back six months – back at the Jeffersonian, back to her partnership with Booth – it should be long enough but still things felt ... wrong.

Part of her had genuinely expected to return from a year on the Maluku Islands and simply slot back into the life she'd left behind. Despite her struggles to put what they did into perspective prior to leaving, to remind herself of why she'd gotten involved in solving murders in the first place.

Despite the situation with Booth.

She's had plenty of time to think while on the island studying what _had_ turned out to be another new hominid species, slotting into the evolutionary timeline between Homo Floresiensis and Homo Sapiens. Their findings had challenged the 'out of Africa' view of human evolution and given new power to the multiregional hypothesis, something that would have anthropogenesists debating for many years to come.

She's had time to think, time to reconnect with her own view of how the world needed to work for her to be able to operate effectively within it. She'd truly thought she'd gained the necessary perspective to be able to retake her role at the Jeffersonian working closely with the FBI. It had only taken moments after meeting Booth at the coffee cart for her to realise that reasoned thinking when Seeley was half a world away was completely different than the thinking she was capable of when he was standing only inches away from her. He'd hugged her so tightly in those first moments, conveying without a single word how difficult his own year away had been. Since then he'd told her bits and pieces, about Afghanistan, the people, the struggles, the lives that had still been lost despite his bests efforts to train them to avoid that. Just as she'd told him about the dig, each using the details of their work to reconnect, neither willing to admit to any hardship on a personal level because of their time apart.

Her own struggles in dealing with their relationship hadn't changed but Temperance could see that for him things _had_ changed. He was calmer in her presence ... less troubled than he'd seemed before their parting. And she'd_ known ... _whatever he'd felt for her, whatever it was that had driven him to speak of being 'that guy' thirty, forty or fifty years down the road, had changed too. It was for the best ... she'd expected it ... but she couldn't pretend that being proven right again didn't hurt, just a little, from a purely intellectual point of view.

"Bones," Booth's jovial voice at the door had her straightening abruptly, her hands smoothing her skirt down over her knees nervously. How did he do that? Turn up just as she was thinking about him? She watched him stride into her office, dressed more casually than usual, still more inside her thoughts than with him. "Daydreaming again?" he quipped with an amused smile, stopping in front of her desk.

"You say that like it's a bad thing but studies have shown that active daydreaming can actually increase productivity. In fact, individuals with an internal locus of control are more achievement oriented than those with an external one. Those who don't daydream are more likely to suffer from low persistence and –"

"Bones," Booth's exasperated voice interrupted her lecture. "Interesting as that sounds we don't have time. Grab your gear ... we've got a case."

"A case?" Brennan's mind shifted immediately into forensic anthropologist mode. "Where?"

"Arizona," Booth smiled as she looked surprised. "We've got a plane to catch so get moving," he urged, striding forward purposefully. "I'll take you to your place first to pack a bag."

"I'm not going to Arizona, Booth," Temperance insisted. "I have work to do here ... there are still research papers I need to complete, not to mention the fact that the number of unidentified remains in bone storage has increased five percent while I've been away."

"They've been waiting years, a few more days won't matter," Booth insisted impatiently. "Come on Bones, let's go, chop, chop."

"Why is the FBI even involved in what should be a state matter?" Brennan wasn't willing to give in that easily.

"Because the bodies were found on Federal land which gives _us_ jurisdiction," Booth explained with exaggerated patience. "At the Joshua Tree National Park. And from the way the Park Police described it, you're gonna want to see this one personally."

"Fine, as long as you know I'm doing this under protest," Brennan grudgingly let him convince her, quickly moving to shut down her computer before joining him on the other side of the desk. She didn't mind the request, didn't mind that he wanted her to work with him ... it was just, well, Arizona was a long way to travel just to see some remains.

"Noted," Booth put a hand to her back, the commonplace gesture getting her feet moving even while it illustrated what had been both lost and regained. For a time he'd stopped doing that – touching her so casually. After his 'confession' he'd kept a distance emotionally and physically, a distance he clearly no longer felt the need for.

Determinedly she turned her thoughts away from personal concerns that had no place in their work together. "Wait - don't we need to let Doctor Saroyan know where we're going?" Brennan asked as he hurried her towards the doors.

"Already done," Booth grinned. "I left Cam a note that I was stealing you away for a couple of days."

It was still early and the rest of her team – Cam, Angela, Hodgins and Wendell had yet to arrive for the day's work. She liked that time of day, when the lab was hers alone. If she were honest she liked it even more when Booth arrived to lure her away with one excuse or another. "Did they tell you what's so interesting about these remains?" she asked, walking beside him towards his vehicle.

"Not exactly," Booth replied, opening her door before moving to the driver's side. Settling inside he snapped his seat belt into place, glancing at her to make sure she'd done the same before he started the engine, smoothly integrating them into the traffic. "Just that they had skeletal remains – unidentified – that look to have been there a while. They've kept their distance since the body was found, waiting for us to get out there."

"A skeleton in the desert? That doesn't sound all that remarkable to me," Temperance insisted.

"You'll change your mind when you see them," Booth smiled over at her. "The Park Police said there was something hinky about the remains – one skeleton, two skulls and a whole stack of extra bones – that's why they want you to take a look."

"You're right, that does sound interesting," Brennan agreed seriously. When Booth smiled winningly that 'respond to Booth' trigger she had inside had her smiling back.

**TBC ...**


	2. Crime Scene

**Chapter 2: Crime scene.**

"_You can close your eyes to the things you do not want to see, but you cannot close your heart to the things you do not want to feel." Uncredited_

Glancing over at his partner, Seeley Booth couldn't help the small smile. She was just so ... earnest ..._ all_ the time.

Before leaving for Afghanistan he'd been too focused on all the things he couldn't have. But, after a year without Bones, Booth was just grateful for the things he did. Like her presence in his everyday life ... her professional regard ... her friendship. It wasn't as much as he'd hoped for but Afghanistan had reminded him of one important fact. Love wasn't something you could just set aside because it wasn't convenient and it wasn't something you could substitute with a lesser version of emotion. He'd told her once that he'd get married one day – at the time he'd still been in denial about his feelings and he'd genuinely believed it. Not seeing her for a year had clarified that too – it was clichéd and he'd never admit it aloud but if Seeley Joseph Booth couldn't marry Temperance Brennan then he wouldn't be marrying anyone. He couldn't have her and he couldn't make himself want anyone else – in the end it really was that simple and he was done trying to make himself be anyone other than who he was.

As the months in Afghanistan had crawled by and he'd realised the long term truth of his feelings he'd resented them – he'd been angry at her for not giving them a chance and angry at himself for not being enough for her to take the risk. But more months and more thinking, and the harshness of life in a war zone, had made him realise something else. For all intents and purposes she was already his, in every way that counted but the intimate. She wouldn't marry anyone else either – for different reasons but the result was the same. It calmed him, knowing that their partnership would continue into the future, that he could count on her being a part of his life.

"Are you even listening to me?" her annoyed voice broke through his self absorption.

"Of course I am," he smiled over at her charmingly.

"What did I just say then?" Temperance demanded, looking at him pointedly.

"That's hardly a fair test!" Booth protested. "Homo Moko whatever isn't gonna make sense to me no matter how hard I listen."

"Homo Mulukisiensis and its connection to early Homo Sapiens _is_ a topic not many people are capable of understanding," Brennan agreed thoughtfully. "I accept your excuse."

"Well thank you," Booth returned, amused as usual at her unique way of assessing the world. In essence she'd just called him stupid but there was nothing in him that wanted to take offence ... it was just Bones. Just a part of regaining a familiarity of operation that they'd lost _before _they'd left for their respective career breaks.

Turning his attention back to the road Booth checked the odometer ... after a five hour flight and another three hours on the road they were almost at the Joshua Tree National Park. They'd started out pretty early but the long day of travelling saw the sun riding low in the sky. They'd long left busy conversation behind along with the busy city of Los Angeles and settled into a companionable silence that seemed to suit the desert terrain outside the jeep's windows. Bones had even slept for an hour, launching into what he'd have thought was nervous chatter from anyone one else as soon as she'd awoken and realised she'd been leaning against his shoulder the whole time. He'd tried to reassure her by jokingly telling her she only snored a little but she'd been less than impressed. He was almost certain that the resulting lecture about her work in Indonesia was her idea of a punishment.

"The entrance should be up ahead," he commented, slowing when he spotted the narrow dirt road and turning to enter the national park. The Park Police knew they were on the way and had left the usually locked by this time of the day gates open for them.

"I must admit I find this terrain very interesting," Bones commented, eyes trained on the view out the front window.

"Yeah? How so?" Booth glanced at her curiously before looking back at the road.

"The tree for which the park is named survives in desert conditions where all logic says it shouldn't," Bones explained. "And not just survives – it thrives in the dry conditions. Some of its success can be attributed to its deep root system reaching as far as eleven meters away from the trunk. It grows faster than most desert specimens too, and can live for hundreds of years." She looked over at him and smiled. "Do you know why they call it a Joshua tree?"

"Because somebody called Joshua was the first to study one?" Booth suggested teasingly.

"A reasonable suggestion since many newly discovered species are named for their discoverers," Bones commented. "Only that wasn't the case here. The tree was named by a group of Mormon settlers who crossed the Mojave Desert in the mid eighteen hundreds. The tree's unique shape reminded them of a fictional story about a man named Joshua who became famous for reaching his hands up to the sky in prayer. Personally I think the tree's limbs fail to resemble anything connected in any way to the human body."

"It's from the Bible," Booth said simply. "The Book of Joshua. His prayers halted the sun and moon for a day so the Israelites could pursue their enemies."

"The very notion that anyone, through prayer or otherwise, is capable of stopping the sun or the moon from completing their daily revolutions is ludicrous," Bones began.

"But you know it's not meant to be taken literally," Booth finished for her, cutting off the beginning of another debate about the merits and logic of religion. "Why don't you stick to the tree itself? What else is interesting about it?"

"The trunk doesn't have rings like most varieties," Bones offered. "Makes dating the age of any one tree very difficult."

"That _is_ interesting," Booth agreed, a faint smile playing across his lips.

Bones let it go for a few moments and then spoke again. "You don't really think it's interesting, do you?"

"Not really, but it's enough that you do," Booth replied, smiling over at her.

Following the directions the Park Police had given him, Booth pulled off the road at a large rock formation that looked like the Michelin man. Apparently the park was famous for them – unique, 'otherworldly' rock sculptures – which made them handy landmarks. A few minutes later they were pulling up beside a Park Police vehicle. The sun was almost on the horizon as Booth and Bones walked down the path, heading further into the park towards a small grove of Joshua trees.

He knew the instance Bones spotted the remains, knew it in the way her gaze sharpened even as that great intellect of hers shifted into high gear. As Booth walked closer his brow rose as he took it in. A large flat rock suspended on top of several smaller rocks creating a kind of stage, shaded by a circle of large Joshua trees. From what they could see from the ground the remains were placed in the centre.

"Agent Booth?" A young man stepped forward at their approach. "Officer Brian Cartwright, United States Park Police."

"Special Agent Seeley Booth," Booth confirmed, nodding to Bones. "This is my partner, Doctor Temperance Brennan of the Jeffersonian Institution."

Bones absently acknowledged the officer's greeting, taking a few steps closer to the scene, eyes intent.

"I know you've had a long trip so I won't trouble you with small talk," Officer Cartwright began. "It's park policy to run a rolling schedule of area checks across the entire park. This particular section was scheduled for checking yesterday which is when they found the remains." He motioned for Bones and Booth to follow him, leading them around to the back of the rock 'stage' where additional rocks acted like a set of stairs.

Brennan didn't wait for an invitation, she was up there and squatting beside the bodies before Booth had made it half way up.

"Whoa," Booth stopped abruptly at the top, taking in the skeleton incredulously. Because that's what it was – _a skeleton_ – without a single sign of flesh or sinew, not that he could detect anyway. He could see immediately why the Park police had labelled the remains as 'hinky'. As he looked closer he realised that it wasn't just a skeleton plus a few extra bones ... it was _two _skeletons contorted so that most of the bones of one were enclosed inside the other. The whiteness of the bones kind of glowed faintly in the falling light and if he were honest, that detail along with the way the bones were entwined together was freaking him out a little.

"The scene is composed of two victims, as evidenced by the presence of two sets of humerus, radius, ulna, femur, tibia and fibula bones," Bones began her initial assessment, her voice competent and controlled as she spoke into her recorder. "The remaining skeletal structure of one victim has been reconstructed and enclosed inside the thoracic cavity of the other, utilising an adhesive to retain the forms. The relative ratios of the pubis and ischium lengths of the inner victim indicate female. The condition of the epiphyses of both femurs along with the incomplete fusing of the sagittal suture suggests the victim was in her mid twenties, maybe twenty four or twenty five. The prominence of the orbital ridges and the somewhat non circular shape of the eye sockets indicate the second victim is male. The skull plates are completely fused, suggesting he was older, at least thirty years of age. With the general condition of the bones along with degree of ossification I'd say thirty two or three. The morphological characteristics of the skull and limbs suggest both are Caucasian."

She turned to glance up at Booth and paused her recording. "Until I can study the remains closely I can't give you a cause or time of death. Given the arrangement of the remains and the extreme unlikelihood that both victims died at the same time without suspicious cause, I'm willing to rule them as murder victims, pending confirmation of the same."

"Ah, Bones," Booth bent close to her ear and spoke in a low tone. "Aren't these remains a little _cleaner_ than usual?"

"Yes," Brennan agreed matter-of-factly. "The victims were subjected to some kind of de-fleshing technique before their skeletons were reconstructed and placed here. I'll need Doctor Hodgins to run some tests on scrapings of the bone surface to determine which method was used."

"Are you saying a _forensic_ _anthropologist_ killed these people?" Booth asked incredulously.

"I don't engage in speculation Booth," Brennan reminded him firmly.

"_Bones_," Booth looked at her pointedly.

"Fine ... not specifically," Brennan relented, "but certainly someone with a great deal of knowledge of the human skeletal structure, yes."

"_Great_, we've got squints committing crimes now," Booth muttered, straightening up and glancing down at the remains with a pained expression. The image of Zack Addy rose to mind but he squashed it ruthlessly – this was nothing like Zack and anyway, the kid hadn't actually committed the crime he'd been put away for, not that Booth had gotten Zack to admit it. "This is gonna be painful isn't it?" he complained, frowning down at the skeletons.

"No more so than any other case, unless you're suggesting that investigating scientists is more challenging," Bones responded to his rhetorical question. "In all likelihood the killer will be smarter than average and may have allowed for many of the usual ways we investigate remains." She smiled, nodding her understanding. "Yes, I see what you mean. This investigation _is_ likely to require a greater level of intellectual effort, although I'd hardly describe it as painful."

"Right," Booth looked at her for a moment and then shook his head with a faint smile. Turning back to their escort he began his own investigation. "When was the last time this sector of the park was checked?"

"I searched park records this morning," Officer Cartwright replied. "The last time they were out here was mid December, 2004. The park is huge and they don't have a lot of man power so it takes a few years to complete one circuit."

"So these bodies could have been out here as long as that," Booth concluded thoughtfully. December 2004 to now, early February 2012. "That's more than seven years. A long time for bodies to have been exposed to the elements so openly without someone stumbling across them."

"I guess so," Cartwright agreed. "Not many people come out this way – it's off the usual routes most campers follow."

"Seven years is too long," Brennan interjected. "Judging from the signs of weathering on the bones and taking into consideration the extreme ultraviolet conditions they've been exposed to I'd suggest no more than two years."

"Any outstanding missing person's reports linking back to the park?" Booth queried.

"None that match this," the young officer replied. "We get the usual campers losing their way but they mostly get found within a couple of hours, sometimes a day or so. It's been several years since the park had an accidental death."

"What about in the nearby towns?" Booth persisted.

"Nothing outstanding," Cartwright returned.

"They were brought out here from somewhere else," Booth looked back to where Bones was working as he put himself into the scene, inferring the most likely scenario. "The killer lured them somewhere and killed them, did his bone cleaning thing and then brought them out here and arranged them to create his twisted vision."

"Assuming this rock is as unmoveable as it looks we'll need samples of the surface along with the surrounding dirt," Brennan announced. "Specifically from underneath the bodies – there may be insect remains that will help Hodgins date how long the bones have been out here. I'll also need a complete set of photos of the skeletons before they can be removed and shipped back to the Jeffersonian. A great deal of delicacy will be required to ensure transport while preserving their unique configuration."

"The experts can handle it Bones," Booth pointed out, already adding a full three sixty photo set of the crime scene to the list of things to do. "I'll get the local FBI crime scene unit down here," he acknowledged, pulling out his mobile and making the call. He wasn't sure why but his gut was already telling him that this was going to be a bad one. There was just something about the entire scene, and the deliberate way the victims had been arranged together. Hell, even the place itself had his instincts yelling 'big problem.'

"This is Special Agent Seeley Booth," he began as soon as the call was answered. "I need a CSI unit and an evidence retrieval team out at the Joshua Tree National Park. Yes ... _before_ daybreak."

**Authors Note: **

I used Google Maps to work out their likely trip time ... Los Angeles is actually closer than Las Vegas if the Joshua Tree National park is the destination but it's still a long way from the Jeffersonian. I'm clearly not an anthropologist and relied on the internet, mostly wikipedia, for the details needed for anthroBrennan.

On the timeline, as with most TV shows the specifics of when individual episodes are set is difficult to determine. The Beginning in the End aired initially on 20 May, 2010 BUT on watching that episode a few times it doesn't make sense to set it at the same time. In the episode Booth says that the gnome guy last spoke to the victim on April 29th ... the victim argues with his girlfriend after this. The victim then starves to death taking anywhere from a few days to several weeks before his body decomposses considerably over several more weeks/months. Using this I have chosen to set The Beginning in the End in early August 2010 (early May victim buried plus a month to starve and another two months to decompose and rot the floor) + 1 year equals early August 2011 + the 6 months I said they'd been back in the last chapter hopefully equals early Feb 2012. Just in case anyone was wondering!

So, how am I doing here? Please review and let me know! Thanks


	3. Preliminary Assessment

**Chapter 3: Preliminary Assessment**

"_We come to love not by finding a perfect person, but by learning to see an imperfect person perfectly" __Sam Keen._

"The Joshua Tree Inn has vacancies if you need somewhere to stay," Officer Cartwright told Booth as they walked back to the car. Brennan stifled a yawn as she half listened to their conversation. It had been a long day and although she was accustomed to staying up all night on occasion, doing so when an intriguing case was there to fuel the mind was different than doing so after hours spent in meaningless endeavours during a long journey.

She'd sent Booth back to the jeep to grab her camera and taken her own set of crime scene photos to examine in the absence of the skeleton's themselves. The FBI evidence retrieval teams were on the way and there was nothing else she could do on site, frustrating as that always was.

Something about the scene on that rock troubled Brennan, more than the usual crime scene. She'd seen worse – more gruesome, bizarre, cruel. Perhaps that was the problem. It was _too_ clean, contrived to convey a message she couldn't readily define. Maybe Booth would be able to do that for her – he was still much better at discerning the emotions in a situation than she was, despite the years he'd spent trying to teach her some of those skills.

"What do you say Bones?" Temperance looked up to see Booth watching her expectantly, Cartwright having already moved off to his own vehicle.

"Sorry?" Brennan blinked and then refocused.

"Do you want to go to the Inn, grab some food and a place to sleep?" Booth repeated, frowning at her in concern.

"I want to begin work on identifying those skeletal remains," Brennan said stubbornly.

"And you will," Booth countered her impatience with practiced ease, "but there's nothing you can do for now and I'd rather not sign up for another three hours on the road tonight. So, you hungry?"

"Not particularly, but I've observed on more than one occasion that you get irritable when forced to go without sustenance for an extended period," Temperance returned smartly.

"I _don't_ get irritable," Booth protested, opening her car door and waiting until she got inside. "Most people require more than rabbit food to get through the day you know," he added once he was sitting in the driver's seat. Turning to look at her, his hand hovering over the ignition, he waited. "What's it gonna be Bones?"

"Dinner _will_ replenish our energy levels," Brennan decided. "We can look at my photos as well, thereby making better use of our time."

"Yeah, because God forbid we should actually slack off for an hour," Booth muttered under his breath, turning the key and gunning the engine. With tires sending up a plume of pebbles behind them, he pulled out onto the dirt road and headed in the direction Officer Cartwright had pointed them.

* * *

"What do you make of this?" Brennan pointed to her laptop where the shot she'd taken of the crime scene that showed the entirety of the rock stage and the surrounds was displayed. They were sitting at the bar of the Joshua Tree Inn, dinner consumed, cold beers in hand. Both had taken the opportunity after checking into their rooms to shower and change into fresh clothes, and were as relaxed as they could get at the beginning of a murder case.

"You tell me your impressions first," Booth suggested, swivelling in his seat so his posture complimented hers and leaning his head closer.

"It's ... contrived," Brennan began, frowning down at the photo, "but not in any way I can recall seeing before. It's not just the bodies themselves, although clearly they've been arranged to convey a specific impression. It's the location as well."

"Their killer chose that specific place for a specific reason," Booth concluded.

"We can't say that, not without evidence," Brennan countered intently.

"Come on Bones," Booth shot back. "Those rocks were a stage to display what he sees as his work."

"Or her," Brennan couldn't resist reminding him that they had no evidence to confirm the killer's gender either.

"Or her," Booth repeated, taking a swig of his beer before looking at her, "although I'll swap jobs with Hodgins for a week if that turns out to be the case." Brennan took that to mean he was very confident in his assessment – he'd commented more than once on the general lack of appeal in what Doctor Hodgins did, particularly the concoction of insect purees for analysis which Booth said just shouldn't be allowed.

"My estimate of the stature of the male victim does suggest the killer would have needed significant upper body strength to transport the body to the site where the bones were cleaned," Brennan allowed. She'd taken measurements of the lengths of the humerus and femur while at the scene and applied the standard regression formulae, referencing tables for males and females to determine that the male victim had been at least 6 feet two inches tall. His female companion had been much shorter, more like five feet five or six.

"There you go," Booth grinned down at her. "What else?" he tapped the screen expectantly.

"Anything else would be pure conjecture," Brennan pointed out academically.

"So conject a little," Booth persisted.

"You realise that isn't actually a word," Brennan corrected even as she shifted the laptop closer and angled it so that they could both see it better.

"Play along here Bones," Booth urged, nudging her shoulder with his. "What's your first impression looking at this?"

Temperance tried to put herself in his shoes, to see what he so clearly saw, because it was obvious he'd seen something she hadn't. Narrowing her eyes she let the details go out of focus a little but it didn't help reveal any burning revelations. Glancing at Booth she found him watching her intently and quickly looked away again.

"How are the skeletons arranged?" Booth asked in a quiet voice.

"Together," Brennan stated the obvious.

"Not just together Bones," Booth replied. "Together suggests side by side. These people are occupying the same space, as much as their physical dimensions allow."

"It _is_ an intimate way to display them," Brennan agreed, pulling up a close up photo of the victims onto the screen. "From a purely academic point of view it is intriguing how the bones of the female victim have been slotted within the costal cavity of the male while preserving many of her individual aspects, although of course not in their original configuration. I'm sure Angela would point out that there are artistic elements apparent here."

"It's not about art," Booth shifted the laptop away from her and glanced at the screen for a moment before resolutely closing the lid. "It's about emotion Bones ... theirs _and_ the killers."

"Emotion?" Brennan moved to open the laptop again but Booth stopped her, putting a hand over hers and holding her still. Her eyes shot upwards and his connected ... and urged her to wait silently for him to reveal what he thought she should already know.

"Those people weren't just random strangers Bones," Booth explained. "They were together in _every_ sense of the word - the 'grand' romance ... true love, whatever you want to call it. And from the way the killer prettied them up before arranging them out there I'd say that's why he chose them."

"That's ridiculous," Brennan protested, looking at him in exasperation. "For one there's no such thing as true love and even if there was, how can you possibly tell that these victims had it from that photo alone?"

"You can tell that someone who'd been gone for four years was a singer just by looking at their bones," Booth reminded her of their first case together. "That's your thing. This is mine."

"You know I have great admiration for your people skills Booth," Temperance spoke sincerely. "With the _living_ ... you don't usually speculate on the dead like this."

"The bones don't speak to me like they do you," Booth agreed. "Except this time they do."

The mood between them shifted when they realised at the same moment that he still had his hand over hers. Shifting back awkwardly Booth turned away, taking a large swallow of beer in an obvious, even to Brennan, effort to regroup.

"I need to get Angela onto facial reconstruction as soon as the remains arrive at the Jeffersonian," Brennan changed the subject while still sticking firmly to work.

"I called Charlie back at the office," Booth offered. "Got him searching for missing couples around the ages of our two vics, starting with the surrounding states and going back two years. With any luck we'll get a small list of possibles for Angela to work with for matching."

"What if we can't find anything?" Brennan spoke in a low tone after a few moments of silence, looking down at the bar top instead of at her partner. She didn't want to admit that it had been a genuine concern since the moment she'd realised the bones had been cleaned. That coupled with the fact that they had nothing to link back to the location where the murders themselves had taken place and no idea how long the bodies had been out there was troubling.

"Is that doubt I'm hearing?" Booth teased, "from the great Doctor Temperance Brennan?"

"I may be the best in my field but that hardly makes me 'the great' anything," Brennan said, exasperated that he wasn't taking her seriously. "I'm simply wondering if the complete lack of any incriminating evidence is a possible outcome."

"The perfect crime you mean? Do I think the perfect crime is possible?" Booth clarified, waiting until she nodded to answer the question. "No, of course not. They always make a mistake Bones. It's humanity's way to leave its mark, whether intended or not. And I have complete faith in you to find this killer's mark, no matter how small it is."

"Thank you Booth," Brennan looked at him gratefully.

"Anytime Bones, any time," he returned with a smile.

* * *

They were in Booth's car half way between the airport and the Jeffersonian the next day when Booth's phone rang.

"Booth," he answered it, keeping his eyes on the road.

"I've got your victims," Agent Charlie Burns reported, "or at least two pretty good candidates."

"Who are they?" Booth asked, hitting the speaker button so Bones could hear the reply.

"Clarissa Harper and Nathan Evans," Charlie revealed. "That's _Doctor_ Nathan Evans. He was a history professor at the Smithsonian. Disappeared around two years ago while on holiday with his girlfriend. They checked into a hotel in Vegas, rang her family to report that they'd arrived safely and then no one ever heard from them again."

"Do the ages and general physical characteristics line up?" Brennan asked.

"Pretty much. There are a couple of other possibilities but my money's on these two," Charlie paused for a moment and then continued. "The girl's mother lives in DC. Checks in with the FBI and the police every month like clockwork to see if there are new leads."

"Give me the address," Booth looked at Brennan again, not missing her troubled expression. She might project an unaffected facade and certainly the way she talked suggested she sometimes missed the emotional ramifications of their work but Booth knew that wasn't true. Maybe not everyone saw it, the tears that sometimes rose too close to the surface, but he always did.

She'd gotten into anthropology to study human origins and evolution but Booth had dragged her from that into a world that too often reminded her of her own past. She gave unidentified remains their identity and in the process gave closure to the families of those missing people. Families she was uniquely placed to understand. Just because she'd found her brother and father and knew what had happened to her mother didn't mean she wasn't still one of those families. And no matter how many people she 'found' there was no getting over her own past. Booth knew that aspect of her better than anyone - he understood how her history combined with her unique personality impacted on the way she approached the world. He might wish sometimes it wasn't the case, especially since he was pretty sure her past played a large part in her insistence that she couldn't change emotionally, not even for him, when he's seen too much evidence to the contrary. But ultimately it made her who she was, someone pretty damn special, and certainly someone he'd never _want _to change. Another cliché but he really did love her just the way she was.

"We'll check in at the lab first," he told her after hanging up. "See if they've made any progress while we were in the air." The FBI teams had been efficient at their jobs, shipping the remains and samples to the lab overnight so that they'd arrived at the Jeffersonian in the early hours of the morning - about the same time he and Bones had set out on their own return journey.

"Do you think she'll be grateful if it turns out we have found her daughter?" Brennan asked, her tone suggesting it was academic curiousity rather than emotion that drove her.

"Were you?" Booth reflected the question back to her.

"Not at first," Brennan admitted for the first time. "Hope is a powerful motivator. As long as we have hope that something longed for is still a possibility we can delude ourselves into thinking that the outcome will be favourable. Even being fully aware that it was a delusion I still found it comforting at times to imagine a life for my parents, even though it didn't include me."

"It's easier to create that kind of fantasy than face the harsh reality of having to put hope aside," Booth kept his eyes firmly fixed on the road even though he desperately wanted to look at her. She was talking about her mother but to him it felt like she was talking about him too, about _them_.

"Is it harsh, or is a gift?" Brennan asked wistfully. "What good does it do to live with false hope?"

"Depends on whether it really is false," Booth said carefully. Pulling into the car park at the Jeffersonian he turned off the engine and sat, still deliberately not looking at her. "Maybe hope is just another word for dreams Bones," he was subtle in reminding her of the words displayed so prominently outside the Hoover building. "Everybody needs those."

When he finally looked at her it was to find her staring back at him. They remained that way, silent communication like they'd indulged in so many times in the past continuing until Brennan's phone rang.

"Doctor Temperance Brennan," she answered absently.

"Sweetie, where are you?" Angela's voice had her dragging her eyes away from Booth's.

"Outside in the car park," Brennan took the question literally. "We just arrived."

"Well then, get your butts in here," Angela urged. "I have a face for you."

**Authors Note:**

Thank you to everyone interested enough in this story to Alert it - already a lot more than I usually get this early in posting *grins*. I'm going to take that as positive feedback but it would do wonders for my confidence in posting this to see more people reviewing so please, take a few moments to let me know what you think so far. Thank you all for reading!


	4. Identification

**Chapter 4: Identification**

"_There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are messengers of overwhelming grief...and unspeakable love." Washington Irving._

Their female victim had been pretty in a wholesome, innocent way. Angela had drawn her with long straight hair and an expression that was both happy and hopeful. Brennan had long since given up trying to work out how her best friend did what was essentially guess so accurately the details skin depths and bone structures couldn't convey. She just knew that somehow Angela could ... that the artist gave the lost ones their faces back just as much as Temperance provided the means for them to reclaim their identities.

"Wendell did all the x-rays and photos as soon as the skeletons arrived," Angela sat on the couch across from Booth and Brennan in her own office, holding close to her chest the sketch pad she'd already shown them. "The bones were just so ...," Angela trailed off with a grimace.

"Clean?" Booth suggested.

"Yes, and I know this is insane because I'm usually the one complaining about barf making monstrosities, but this is just sick on a whole other level," Angela admitted. "Because everything about these remains is so clean it took Wendell next to no time to extract the inner skull and then clear them both for me to begin reconstruction. The rest of it's going to take him much longer to unravel." She shrugged. "Jack was working on testing the samples you sent with the bodies anyway so I decided I might as well work too."

Brennan appreciated her friend's uncharacteristically verbose explanation on how she'd been able to do a reconstruction so quickly because normally her best friend didn't begin that task until _after_ the bones had been examined fully. "You did well Angela," she stated. "I certainly didn't expect you to have completed a reconstruction before our return."

Angela looked down at her drawing. "So far I haven't been able to match her but with so little to go on I had to use wider search parameters than usual ... that large a search through all the usual databases could take a few hours to complete. I don't think Jack's found anything yet either," she smiled slightly – her husband was renowned for his 'king of the lab' routine and Brennan was sure they'd all know it as soon as he did find something.

"One of my FBI contacts gave us details on an outstanding missing persons report for a Clarissa Harper – details match our victim pretty closely," Booth told Angela. "Could you ...,"

"Search for any records on her specifically - sure," Angela moved over to her computer. "Okay, let's see if we can find you," she murmured, typing in their suspected victim's name. The scanned image of her sketch occupied half the display screen, hanging there alone until a file photo of a young woman snapped into position beside it. The image was similar to the sketch but there were differences too, in hair style and expression. "Clarissa Harper, last known location Las Vegas Nevada. Reported missing 15th February 2010 by her mother," Angela read the details for all of them. "It's an eighty five percent match – that's pretty high."

"Does it mention another individual also missing at the same time as the victim?" Brennan asked.

"Ah ...," Angela tapped another command, "yes. Doctor Nathan Evans, same date, also reported missing by Denise Harper. Here ...," she displayed the image of a studious looking man. "This is him."

"Can you do a reconstruction of the second victim; see if it matches Doctor Evans?" Brennan requested.

"Of course," Angela agreed. She hesitated a moment and then sighed. "I don't know why but this all strikes me as particularly sad," she shared. "Reminds me of The Earthly Garden of Delights – macabre skeletons contorted to fit the artist's purposes – not that I'm suggesting whoever did this is in any way an artist," she grimaced at the thought. "I wonder what they were doing, before they were taken."

"They disappeared from Vegas near Valentine's Day," Booth said that like it should mean something. Brennan didn't understand what until Angela reacted.

"Oh, elopement!" her friend concluded. "How romantic ... and God, how _sad_."

"I don't understand how sneaking away to get married can be described as romantic," Brennan protested. "The very fact that the couple apparently doesn't want anyone who knows them to witness the event suggests a level of disbelief in the entire process, either that or shame in their choice of partner. In either case it hardly bodes well for the continuing viability of the resulting legal union."

"_Bones_," Booth waited until she looked at him and then nodded meaningfully towards Angela.

Temperance shot a quick glance towards her best friend and realised abruptly what she'd said. "Except for you and Doctor Hodgins," she added somewhat lamely. "I'm sure that getting married in jail was a very romantic event that will stand the test of time."

"It's all right Bren," Angela shared an amused smile with Booth. "I know what you meant."

"So we know who they are but not why they were killed -," Booth stopped when Hodgins strode into the room.

"I've completed my preliminary assessment of the rock scrapings and soil samples," he began without preamble, "and you're not gonna like it."

"You didn't find anything." Usually Hodgins found something on first inspection, even if no one understood what it was or what it meant. Brennan looked at Booth, knowing he was aware of what she was thinking. The perfect crime – could this really be the perfect crime?

"Look again," Booth practically ordered Hodgins, his attention on his partner's troubled expression. "You keep looking until you find something."

"Of course," Hodgins looked confused, exchanging a glance with his wife and getting a shrug in return. "You know me man, I'm like a bloodhound. There are still plenty of tests I can run. Nothing gets past Doctor Jack Hodgins."

"Good man," Booth stood up abruptly, grabbing Brennan's hand before she could protest and pulling her up too.

"Angela said Mr Bray has already begun attempting to separate the skeletons," she told Hodgins, ignoring Booth's obvious signals for them to get moving. "As soon as he's successful, have him collect scrapings of the top layer of bone and test for anything that would explain how the killer cleaned them."

"You think that will lead us to whoever did this," Hodgins nodded at that sound conclusion.

"How many people do you know capable of doing what was done to those two people?" Booth answered for his partner.

"What, _excluding _the people in this room?" Jack's sarcastic tone quickly illuminated the flaw in that question - from a knowledge point of view anyway. Even Booth had been around the Jeffersonian long enough to know the various ways the professionals had for de-fleshing a skeleton.

"Just do what Bones asked," Booth shot back impatiently. "We're gonna go talk to Denise Harper," he ignored Bones' narrow eyed gaze at his continuing domineering manner. "Call us if you find anything."

"Will do," Hodgins called to their retreating backs. Closing the distance between the door and the couch he dropped down beside Angela. "What was that all about?"

"I have no idea," Angela admitted, "but what else is new?"

"You'd think after twelve months apart they'd be able to get their act together," Jack replied.

"They have ... a little," she snuggled closer, resting her head beside her husband's for a few moments reprieve from work. "Booth has anyway ... I don't know what that means but he's more resolved that he was before he left. Brennan is ... Brennan."

Jack laughed, wrapping his arm around his wife and squeezing her affectionately. "Have I told you lately how truly glad I am we got _our_ act together?" he asked, looking at her fondly.

"Not in the last few hours," Angela smiled back at him.

"I am _very_ lucky to have you Mrs Hodgins," he said teasingly.

"As am I _you_ Mr Montenegro," she teased back.

"Amen to that," Jack kissed her firmly, pulled back and then decided one kiss wasn't quite enough.

"Hmm mmm," Cam's voice broke them apart regretfully. "Don't you two have work to do?" she asked pointedly.

"We're on it," Hodgins jumped up, leaning down to kiss his wife one more time before jauntily striding off.

"Where's Doctor Brennan?" Cam asked.

"She and Booth went to question the mother of a missing girl who could be one of our victims," Angela revealed.

"Oh," Cam looked troubled for a moment. "I do not envy them that," she said feelingly.

"Me either," Angela agreed.

* * *

"Mrs Denise Harper?" Booth stood at the open front door of an apartment in a building across town.

"Yes, can I help you?" Denise frowned, looking both curious and concerned at the appearance of strangers at her doorstep.

"FBI Special Agent Seeley Booth," he held up his badge for her inspection. "This is my partner, Doctor Temperance Brennan."

"You have news about Clarissa?" Denise asked hopefully.

"May we come inside?" Booth asked gently.

"Of course, come in," Denise led the way, talking as she went. "I only checked in with the police two days ago about Clarissa's case. They said they hadn't found anything but I suspected it was because they'd stopped looking. I can't tell you how relieved I am to be proven wrong." She gestured to the kitchen table. "Please, have a seat."

"I have a sketch I'd like you to look at," Booth began. He'd decided to take that approach, to get an independent identification of the victim's identity. "It might not be entirely accurate but if you could tell us if you recognise the person ...," he trailed off, handing her the folded sheet of sketch paper.

He watched as the older woman hesitated a moment before opening the paper and smoothing it out. As soon as she did Denise gave a small gasp, one hand going to her mouth while the other reached out, trembling, to touch the paper.

"Is this your daughter?" Brennan asked with that brisk manner she always had during interrogations.

"Is she dead?" Denise didn't answer the question directly.

"I'm afraid so," Booth replied, still in the same gentle voice he reserved for the families of their victims.

"Her remains were found yesterday at the Joshua Tree National Park in Arizona. Their condition suggests they were exposed to the elements for approximately two years," Brennan offered, feeling the need to give details. If it were her, she'd want to have details, lots and lots of details.

"Is that Clarissa, Mrs Harper?" Booth asked again.

"It could be," Denise admitted hesitantly. "Clarissa wore her hair short but ...," tears shimmered and fell to splash on the table as she continued to look at the sketch. "I don't know if I'm unsure because I hope it isn't her or seeing something that isn't there because I hope it is. Not knowing has been ... difficult."

"Just take your time Mrs Harper," Booth put a hand over hers, getting a grateful look in return.

"We can do a mitochondrial DNA profile and compare it to your own DNA to confirm identity," Bones offered. "It's how the National Missing Person DNA Database Program works," she said in an aside to Booth. "mtDNA is persistent in skeletal remains for millennia. Families of missing persons give samples which are then used for matching when unidentified remains are found."

"What my partner _means_ is that we'll be able to get you confirmation of a positive identification if you need it," Booth countered with a pointed look to Bones that said 'too much information'.

"I ...," Denise took a deep breath, making an obvious effort at emotional control. "I don't need it Agent Booth. Yes ... yes, this is my Clarissa." Her voice broke on the last part of that statement, sobs rising from deep inside her.

"We're very sorry for your loss," Booth said respectfully. "Do you have a photo of your daughter we could take with us?" They didn't really need it but ... well, it gave the grieving mother as much time as he could allow to begin the process of accepting that her daughter wasn't coming home.

"I'll get you one," Denise stood quickly, obviously grateful for the reprieve.

"Can you not keep referring to her daughter as 'the remains' Bones?" Booth instructed pointedly as soon as they were alone. "She's a grieving mother – she doesn't need all the squinty details."

"Why not?" Brennan took up her side of a common argument between them. "I'd be happy to receive that same level of explanation, were I in a similar position."

"But most people aren't like you Bones," Booth returned. "They're not remains to her – we're talking about her daughter, her _family_. Listen, I know it upsets you but we _have_ to put a personal face on these people, build a rapport – a connection – with the families. It we don't it'll take that much longer to catch the killer."

"I'm _not_ upset," Brennan returned insistently.

"Right and I was never a sniper," Booth shot back, exasperated at her continuing stubbornness in denying she had empathy for people like Denise Harper.

"But you _were_ a sniper," Brenan frowned. "Unless you're suggesting that wasn't the truth which hardly seems likely since I'm sure it's a matter of documented record, if not publicly then in your own FBI file. I don't think I understand your original reference Booth."

"Forget it," Booth ground his teeth in frustration.

"Will this do?" Denise returned with an A5 sized portrait of her daughter.

"That's great," Booth said approvingly, taking the photo and glancing at it quickly before turning his attention back to Denise. "Can we ask you a few questions?"

"Of course," Denise sat down again, putting her hand over the one Booth was using to hold the photo. She leaned forward, her expression one he'd seen too many times in the past. The one that called for justice, revenge, anything to make the pain go away. "Will you ...?" she couldn't go on, turning away and giving in to a couple of rapid sobs that caught in her throat.

"We'll catch whoever did this," Booth promised.

"Special Agent Booth and I have an almost perfect arrest record," Bones offered somewhat academically. Where before her comments had Denise frowning this time they actually raised a slight smile.

"Then I believe you'll catch my daughter's murderer." Denise gasped suddenly. "Oh my god. Nathan. How could I have forgotten? Did you find him?"

"Nathan?" Booth queried, again letting Denise give him the details rather than supplying them.

"Yes, Doctor Nathan Evans. He and Clarissa were as close as any two people I've ever seen in love," Denise smile trembled but it was clear that she'd approved the match. "They went missing together." She sighed wistfully. "I don't know why but that often comforted me, that my baby wasn't alone."

"We haven't made a positive identification but a second victim was found with your daughter," Booth revealed.

"It will be Nathan," Denise said with certainty. "No way that boy would have left Clarissa, you mark my words." Jumping up suddenly she disappeared from the kitchen only to return moments later with another photo clutched in her hands. "Here they are ... my Clarissa and Nathan," she announced, putting the photo on the table so that they could all see it.

"They look happy," Brennan offered, her eyes cataloguing a host of details apparent from the photo's composition. The same man Angela had shown them earlier, standing behind Clarissa with his arms wrapped firmly around her waist, protectively but the expression on his face said the closeness was as much for him as it was for her. Their smiles proclaimed to anyone who saw the photo how much they delighted in being with each other.

"They _were _happy," Denise chuckled. "Nathan is ... _was_ a history lecturer while Clarissa painted. Oh, it was opposites attracting right from the start. Clarissa dragged him outside the academic world ... my baby was so bright and enthusiastic; she had an energy she applied to everything she did. Swept that boy right off his feet their first meeting, but he went willingly. Never looked back." The reminiscing had obviously pleased her but saddened her as well and it was the second that took over as the tears rose again. "He had no family ... we became that for him, Clarissa and I. It all happened so fast for them but I _knew _... he would have been my son-in-law one day, the father of my grandchildren ... I was sure of it. And now ...," she bent her head over the photo, sobbing quietly.

"We're sorry," Booth said again, exchanging troubled glances with his partner. "Mrs Harper, did anyone have any reason to want to hurt your daughter?"

"Of course not," Denise replied immediately, wiping her eyes. "Everybody liked her, Nathan too."

"No disagreements over anything?"

"No," Denise looked at Seeley intently. "Whoever killed my baby, it wasn't through anything she did Agent Booth."

"No jealous ex-boyfriends?" Booth had to ask.

"Clarissa dated a little but there was no one serious ... until she met Nathan."

"Admirers then? Did she ever mention anyone taking too much interest?"

"Not that she told me about and we were close enough that she would have," Denise replied. "Do you think someone who knew Clarissa did this?"

"Statistics show that a larger than random proportion of murder victims know their murderer," Brennan stated factually.

"It's routine to ask these kinds of questions Mrs Harper," Seeley added smoothly.

Denise nodded wordlessly, her eyes drawn once more to the photo of her daughter.

"The Joshua Tree National Park is a long way from Las Vegas," Brennan continued. "Do you know what they would have been doing in that area?"

"I don't know that specific park," Denise admitted. "Clarissa told me they were going gambling in Las Vegas. She was laughing when he came to pick her up, said she was corrupting a fine upstanding history professor. They rang from the hotel as soon as they arrived, told me they'd checked in. That was the last I heard from either of them."

"Do you recall the name of the hotel?" Booth queried.

"The Bellagio," Denise smiled sadly. "Nathan was good with money ... he looked after my Clarissa like a true gentleman." Her fingers traced over the profiles of the couple in the photo sadly.

"Thank you Mrs Harper," Booth stood, waiting for Brennan to do the same.

"I knew," Denise whispered, "after so long, I knew they were gone ... Clarissa wouldn't have left without word ... not willingly. I just ... I hoped ..."

"Is there someone we can call?" Temperance asked, putting a hand over the other woman's. "Someone to come and sit with you?"

"My sister," Denise's voice was so low it was barely audible.

"If you give me the number I can call her for you," Brennan offered, taking the mobile phone proffered and pressing the speed dial number Denise gave her.

* * *

Booth listened to Bones reveal the news in plain and simple terms that still offered comfort to the listener, amazed as always at his partner's capacity for compassion. Not that he thought she didn't have that because she did, in spades. No, it was the fact that Bones didn't think she could be empathic that both amazed and frustrated him. She continually put herself in the shoes of victim and family; continually let it get to her. She'd deny it but it was that capacity that made Temperance so good at what she did.

Brennan insisted on waiting until the sister, who thankfully worked close by, arrived. After promising to keep them appraised of developments Booth put a hand to Brennan's back and escorted her away.

"I don't understand why that woman found it comforting that her daughter didn't die alone," Brennan said as soon as they were out the door.

"What, you wouldn't want me there if you found yourself in that position?" Booth joked. The way he aligned himself to her as the other half of a hypothetical 'victim couple' would have been telling to anyone who'd been there to observe it.

"Of course not!" Brennan gave him a sharp look. "I'd prefer you to be alive Booth, to find my killer and then continue doing the same for others for as long as possible."

"There is no way in hell I'd be able to just carry on as usual," Booth said, suddenly angry, "and if you don't mind I'd prefer it if you didn't talk about your own death so casually."

"Everyone dies Booth," Brennan said simply.

"I _know_ - you don't need to keep reminding me," he complained, frowning. There was a quality in her voice that had Booth looking at her closely. He almost heard it; the way she could just as easily have substituted the word 'leaves' for dies - because that was part of it for her. She had a deep-seated fear of being abandoned, for obvious reasons, and didn't see that the way she acted to protect herself had the dual effect of driving people away. Not him though, he wasn't leaving - not without a direct order from the president and even then he'd seriously consider saying no. Twelve months apart had been more than enough, good cause or not.

Brennan said nothing, lapsing into silence as they walked back to the car. Booth waited until they were both sitting inside before turning to her. "You okay?" he asked gently.

"Why wouldn't I be?" Bones clicked herself in and folded her hands on her lap. When Booth just sat looking at her, she frowned. "I'd like to get back to the Jeffersonian – Mr Bray should have made sufficient progress on separating the two victims for us to proceed with a detailed examination."

"You did okay back there Bones," Booth acknowledged, giving in and turning the ignition. He drove purposefully, letting the silence stand because he knew that's what Bones needed.

"No matter what we say it's never enough," she said abruptly just as he pulled into his usual parking space at the Jeffersonian. "She was so sad Booth. Nothing will ever be the same for her ... never again."

"I know Bones," he said quietly, "I know."

**Authors Note:**

More coming although I probably won't get to post over the weekend. This chapter didn't seem to flow for me like the last ones (forgive the POV shifts!) - I'd appreciate any feedback you feel inspired to leave me. Thanks for reading.


	5. Psychological Profile

**Chapter 5: Psychological profile**

"_Your task is not to seek love, but merely to seek & find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it." Rumi_

Wendell Bray had spent hours painstakingly trying to work out how to separate the two skeletons. Even in his relatively young career the anthropology assistant knew he'd go a long time before seeing anything like this again.

He had to be able to manoeuvre each of the smaller victim's bones around the larger until he could remove them without compromising the evidence but had worked out pretty quickly that that wasn't going to happen easily. Only the long bones of the arms and legs were separate. The remaining 194 bones of the female victim, including the cranium, had been placed within the thoracic cage of the male like a macabre jigsaw puzzle. A second rib cage, pelvis, spine, hands and feet – all perfectly reconstructed and held together with a transparent adhesive.

Doctor Hodgins had taken a sample of the glue for analysis, suggesting on his way out that a mild solvent would dissolve the glue without destroying the bones. Wendell had decided to persist in trying to separate the victims without altering their composition but apart from the female skull itself had had little luck in making progress. Every time he tried to move something the bone lengths or the fragility of the construction would stop him. It was frustrating and he dreaded what Dr. Brennan would say when she saw that he'd made no progress.

"What do we have Mr Bray?" Brennan strode up to the platform purposefully, already pulling on gloves.

Wendell exchanged an uncertain glance with Booth who was only a step behind her before speaking. "Preliminary assessment confirms your initial findings," he began. "The male victim was approximately thirty two years of age at time of death, the female twenty five. No obvious bone markers to indicate occupation. The bones were fused together with an adhesive to retain their basic structure, apart from the humerus, radius, ulna, femur, tibia and fibula of both victims. The skulls were also unattached - the female skull was held loosely in position by the placement of the other bones. I'm sorry Doctor Brennan – so far I've been unable to separate the victims."

"Have Doctor Hodgins analyse the adhesive used," Brennan suggested. Looking at the remains she quickly pointed to where the sixth and seventh left and right costals joined the sternum. "If you apply a solvent here and here you should be able to widen the rib cage enough to remove the inner thoracic cage without compromising either specimen. The rest of the separation should then proceed with greater ease."

"Yes Ma'am," Wendell nodded, relieved that he was off the hook. "Doctor Hodgins has already recommended something suitable."

"Very good," Brennan moved on quickly. "Cause of death?"

"No indicators, so far," Wendell admitted. He watched his mentor as she picked up the male femur and examined it closely. "The male broke the lower right radius and cracked the right fourth and fifth ribs when he was younger, all well healed. The female has been difficult to examine so far."

"This doesn't feel right," she murmured, looking closer. "There's something about the surface texture," Brennan offered the bone for her student's inspection.

Wendell copied her actions, running a gloved thumb lightly over the surface but couldn't detect anything different from any other bone he'd examined. "I don't see it," he admitted reluctantly.

"Then we need to look closer Mr Bray. Once you've completely separated the victims take some images at one hundred and five hundred times magnification - any anomalies in the surface should then be detectable," she instructed. "Start looking for evidence of the de-fleshing technique employed. Doctor Hodgins will be able to help there as well."

"Yes Ma'am," Wendell carefully placed the bone back into position and then returned to his previous work, conscious of her observing him. "She only just fit, even after the killer widened the male thoracic cage to accommodate everything," he offered his own observations carefully.

"You think he used their relative sizes as a criterion for selecting them?" Brennan's gaze sharpened. Booth looked interested in that observation too but didn't offer a comment.

"If the inside skeleton had been any larger the smaller rib cage wouldn't have slotted inside the larger one," Wendell replied. "That's assuming the arrangement was important – and why would you go to all that effort if it wasn't?"

"Very good Mr Bray," Brennan complimented him in her usual businesslike way.

Wendell smiled even as he bent over the remains again.

"We should talk to Sweets," Booth suggested. "Show him the crime scene photos. He can give us a profile on the killer."

Nodding, Brennan turned back to Wendell. "Please continue," she said unnecessarily.

"He knows what to do Bones," Booth grabbed her elbow lightly and started walking. "Time to let the chicks leave the nest."

"I don't know what that means," Brennan complained, letting her partner lead her away. "None of my assistants bear any resemblance to small feathered creatures."

"Just go with it Bones," Wendell heard Booth's response as the two exited the building. He smiled again before focussing back on his work.

* * *

"Sweets," Booth pushed open the psychologist's office door after a knock that barely qualified as an announcement of their intentions to enter. "We need you to look at these," he thrust the folder of photos at the younger man.

"You know, you and Doctor Brennan aren't my only patients," Lance pointed out, watching as the two took their usual seats on his couch. In the six months since they'd returned the partners had again slotted into a casual routine of sessions with him, interesting only in that there was literally nothing interesting emerging, a fact that continued to trouble the young psychologist.

"But we're your favourites, right?" Booth smiled charmingly, adding an aside to his partner "he really does love us."

"That conclusion can't be substantiated from observation Booth," Brennan took his statements literally. "I believe at best Doctor Sweets is fond of us, although often his expression suggests that he finds us quite frustrating, you in particular."

"No, he loves us," Booth insisted playfully. "We are the centre of his little psychobabble universe, right Sweets? It's Luv ... twew Luv," Booth intoned in the recognisably altered pitch of an effeminate English priest, sending Sweets into appreciative laughter.

"It would be impossible to determine whether any one love is truer than any other," Brennan lectured Booth insistently, "and I hardly think it appropriate for you to suggest that Doctor Sweets feels anything of particular importance for either of us."

"_Bones_ - The Princess Bride?" Booth tried. "Buttercup and the Dread Pirate Roberts?"

"I don't believe I know either of those individuals," Brennan frowned. "Is this royal bride a proponent of the myth about true love? And why would she connect herself to someone as unsavoury as a pirate?"

"Aw, come on Bones, you haven't seen The Princess Bride?" Booth smiled expectantly.

"I am Innigo Montoya, you killed my father, prepare to die," Lance offered up the quote with a bad Spanish accent, clearly thinking that would be enough to jog Brennan's memory.

"No, you're Doctor Lance Sweets, and as far as I'm aware Booth wasn't responsible for the loss of your parents," Brennan frowned in confusion.

"No, Bones, it's from the movie," Booth held up a hand, exasperated. "You know what, never mind."

"I fail to see why you're annoyed when you insist on continually bringing up these pop culture references when you know I won't understand them," Brennan pointed out reasonably.

"You're right," Booth agreed. "We seriously need to broaden your viewing list."

"That's not what I meant," Brennan retorted stubbornly.

"It's okay, it's my job to help you with these things," Seeley turned on the charm, smiling across at his partner with a teasing twinkle in his eyes.

"Oh, you were joking," Brennan slumped back with a faint sigh.

"A little," Booth agreed, patting her shoulder. "Although we do need to sit down and watch The Princess Bride sometime. It's a classic Bones ... even Parker likes it."

"Well if Parker likes it then I suppose I can allocate some time to the project," Brennan allowed.

"That's the spirit," Booth grinned again.

Sweets sat back, watching the byplay between the partners, looking again for some kind of evidence that their relationship was affected by Brennan's rejection of Booth's feelings and their subsequent year apart. Not that they'd admitted in as many words that that's what had happened ... but he'd been there that night when the details of their first case had emerged. He'd been the one to urge Booth to gamble and he'd seen the two of them the following day. Booth had looked shattered – on the surface smiling and carrying on with the next case but in his eyes sadness and dejection and disappointment close to dragging him under. Doctor Brennan hadn't looked any better, her eyes also sad and disappointed and dejected with an added weight of guilt. The sudden distance between the two partners had said it all ... Booth had gambled and lost and in the process damaged both of them. Sweets felt responsible for that but neither would let him broach the subject, either with them during their sessions or separately. And then almost before he could blink Doctor Brennan had been in Indonesia and Booth in Afghanistan.

A year's absence and six months back on the job seemed to have done them wonders. In fact things seemed as they'd always been before their separation which made Sweets all the more suspicious. Surely even these two couldn't ignore the ramifications. There _had _to have been some consequences – had they learned nothing during their time apart?

Opening the folder Booth had thrust at him Sweets glanced at each photo, brows raised as he realised the impression the killer had tried very hard to create. The victims had obviously been lovers and the killer had immortalised their connection in the most extreme way possible, by literally turning the two into one. There'd be other motives at play but emotion was clearly the driving force.

"Has your relationship been affected by the months you spent apart?" Lance had long since learned there was no point in leading up to things gently, particularly with Doctor Brennan. She preferred the direct approach and Booth preferred not to talk at all.

"We're not here for counselling," Booth predictably spoke first. He shifted a little closer to his corner of the couch and shot Brennan a quick look before focussing his formidable attention solely on Lance. "We just want your assessment of the crime scene photos."

"And to do that I need to understand where the two of you are at right now," Sweets countered calmly.

"I don't understand - we're in your office Doctor Sweets, as you can plainly see," Brennan was the one being predictable now and Sweets just barely stopped himself from groaning in frustration. They did it purposely – punishment for being forced to meet with him - he was sure of it.

"There are elements of this crime that I believe will hit close to home for both of you," Sweets explained as patiently as he could. "I need to understand the current dynamics of your partnership and the underlying relationship between the two of you in order to present those elements in an appropriate way."

"You think we take the work stuff personally?" Seeley asked incredulously. "Because we don't, do we Bones?" He turned to her with a raised brow and an encouraging half smile.

"I _am_ very good at compartmentalising work and personal issues separately," Brennan replied, her tone not the usual steamroller of confidence, her hesitation obvious. "But at times I admit it is hard to ignore the connections ... like when Booth had to investigate my father."

"We agreed that I only did what I had to do," Booth reminded her. "Even Max understands that Bones."

"I know, I'm just saying," Brennan met her partners glance. Sweets could see it clearly – the way she silently pleaded with her partner to do his usual trick and just know what she was thinking so she wouldn't have to explain it. Booth looked back at her, brown eyes tracking her blue ones until he was frowning.

"Bones didn't do well with the grave digger trial," Booth told Sweets, his eyes still more on his partner than they were on Lance, like he was making sure it was okay to speak for her. He must have received some kind of positive confirmation because he continued. "She had nightmares. You don't still have those do you?" he suddenly looked worried at the possibility.

"Rarely."

Sweets noted the unusual lack of detail in Brennan's response with interest. "What were these nightmares about?"

"They were simply a reflection of Heather Taffet's crimes against us," Brennan said it like there wasn't much to it but Sweets knew her too well to fall for that.

"Come on Bones," Booth chastised her, proving again how well he knew his partner too. "It was more than that."

"I fail to see the usefulness of dwelling on the contents of dreams I had more than a year ago," Brennan insisted. "The perpetrator is behind bars and there was no permanent damage to the Jeffersonian or the FBI."

"They weren't dreams Bones, they were _nightmares_. You left ... _for a year_, because of them," Booth said it more harshly than he'd probably intended and Sweets didn't miss the way Doctor Brennan flinched.

"That wasn't the reason – you know very well I was offered a once in a lifetime chance to participate in research of lasting significance," Brennan argued. "You - ," she stopped abruptly, looking away. "Can we talk about something else?" she looked at Sweets almost pleadingly.

"Of course," Sweets agreed easily. Clearly they hadn't talked about what had really motivated each of them to leave, even though it had been _six_ months since they'd returned. It was a conversation they needed to have but now wasn't the time. Holding up the first of the crime scene photos, the one that showed the entire picture the killer had tried to create Lance looked at the partners. "What do you see?" he asked simply.

"Love/ Intimacy," Booth and Brennan answered at the same time.

"Interesting," Sweets smiled at their matching looks of irritation, "but I believe in this case Agent Booth is closer to the mark. The killer is someone who believes in love, absolutely. He's driven to preserve it but his view is idealistic and romanticised. He thinks love should be neat and controllable and creates his picture of it accordingly. Cleaning the skeletons to remove the ugliness of death. Arranging them so that the male encloses the female. Placing them in a location that both spotlights and compliments the beauty he sees in the union he's created. He doesn't choose his victims randomly – who they are and what they feel for each other is paramount because in his mind they have to be worthy of the honour he's bestowing on them. They are his tribute to the eternity he sees love as delivering – everything you see here is a part of that."

"See, I told you," Booth said smugly.

"You did," Bones smiled at her partner. "Your ability to deduce motive without the application of a reliable scientific methodology is very impressive."

"You got that right," Booth's chest puffed up at the praise. "We haven't positively ID'd the second victim yet," he told Sweets, "but we know from the mother of the first that they were in fact very much in love."

"And holidaying in Vegas," Brennan added. "Angela thinks they were eloping."

"That's a definite possibility," Sweets agreed. "If they were then it could be part of how the killer identified them as possible subjects. He completes the union he sees the victims creating with something he believes is more lasting."

"Mr Bray suggested the relative size of each victim was a criterion as well," Brennan continued.

"Because a key aspect of his vision is the combination of the two skeletons into one," Sweets concluded. "He fears separation and it drives him to arrange his victims so that one _cannot_ be separated from the other, not with any degree of ease."

Brennan's eyes shot to Booth and then back to Sweets before she looked down at her lap. Lance was sure she'd protest if he were to point out it was something she'd understand because she shared that fear. In fact, Doctor Brennan was likely to understand this killer more than any other she'd pursued with her partner, because his motives were driven by the same needs Temperance had. She sublimated hers in logic and reason and the barrier between herself and others that she insisted on clinging to. She ignored that need in herself completely. This killer did the opposite, going to extremes to create something that in his eyes _couldn't_ be taken away.

"You're looking at someone with a great deal of knowledge in your own field Doctor Brennan," Sweets said plainly. "Enough to be able to assess, based upon visual inspection alone, the suitability of his targets. One who reveres the subject itself, who sees the application of these skills as a crucial part of creating his works."

"You keep doing that," Booth pointed out. "Victim**s**; target**s**. You think he'll do more?"

"I think he already has," Sweets countered seriously, holding up the photo again. "There's a surety in his manner of composition here that points to prior experience."

"So you're saying we've got another serial killer on our hands," Booth concluded grimly. "Just _great_," he signed, rubbing a hand over his eyes. "I need to go and call this one in," he told Brennan, standing and looking down at her with a frown.

"And I should check back at the lab," Brennan stood too.

"Thanks Sweets," Booth said, waiting for his partner to reach him before putting a hand to her back with the intention of escorting her out.

Sweets let them get halfway to the door before he stopped them. "Doctor Brennan, if I could have just a few more minutes of your time."

Bones froze, exchanging glances with Booth, before she reluctantly turned to face Sweets.

"Don't let him interrogate you too much Bones," Seeley slapped a reassuring hand to his partner's shoulders and then disappeared out the door.

Brennan retook her seat and folded her hands into her lap. "You want to know about the dreams," she pre-empted him.

"The nightmares, yes," he corrected.

"They're nothing surprising," Brennan insisted. "Just dramatisations of what actually happened. Hodgins bleeding. And Booth ...," she trailed off.

"And Booth drowning," Sweets finished gently. "Why does it still trouble you so much?"

"He almost didn't make it out of there – shouldn't I have been troubled by that?" Brennan queried logically.

"Of course," Sweets agreed, "that would be a natural extension of your working relationship. But you said 'they're' – they _are_, not they were. You're still having the nightmares aren't you, more than just rarely?"

"I'm sure it's just a side effect of our time apart," Brennan said evasively. "I was accustomed to seeing Booth every day – on the Maluku Islands that wasn't possible and the remoteness of our two locations made it difficult to keep in touch on a regular basis. Most of the time I had very little evidence to convince myself that he was okay. Booth's temperament makes him too suited to military selflessness. I knew he'd be throwing himself into the fray without me there to help him and that concern fuelled my dwelling on past events. The frequency of which has diminished greatly in the past six months."

"Oh my God," Sweets made the leap, looking at Brennan incredulously. "You love him! I mean you've always loved him but you actually know it, you're aware of the fullness of the emotion within yourself."

"That you could come to such a conclusion based solely on the contents of what are entirely understandable nightmares is ridiculous," Brennan shot back with a forced laugh.

"It's not ridiculous," Sweets retorted, the metaphorical light bulb flashing over his head brightly. "How could I not have seen this?"

"There's nothing for you to have seen," Brennan insisted.

"When Doctor Wyatt described the two of you he said one of you was 'acutely aware' of the attraction between you and struggled with it daily," Sweets revealed. "At first I thought he meant Agent Booth until I saw evidence to the contrary and realised it was you – that's why I changed the title of my book. But even with all that I never thought it went so deep, that your strong attraction to Booth was fuelled by even stronger emotions. I underestimated you – I didn't believe you'd come far enough to be capable of giving yourself to someone else enough to admit to loving them."

"I haven't admitted to anything – this is all pure conjecture based on your own deluded view of the world, which is why I dislike psychology," Brennan stood, obviously intent on leaving immediately. "And while I've always held that it's your right to make inferences I don't believe it appropriate for you to use them to judge either of us."

"If I'm wrong then why are you being so defensive?" Sweets asked with that interested, challenging expression he did so well.

"Because you'll use this to evaluate our working relationship," Brennan turned back to him, folding her arms defiantly. "They won't let us work together if what you say is true."

"You can't make it not true simply by willing it Doctor Brennan," Sweets pointed out. "And letting your fear of losing him as a defined presence control your actions is doing you both a disservice."

"We've identified people who would have remained lost forever, stopped murderers from taking other victims _and_ helped a lot of people find closure," Brennan smiled. "Booth says what we do makes the world a better place. Isn't that more important than either of our personal feelings?"

"Yes it's important but it can't be everything - it's unhealthy to make work your entire life," Sweets shot back. "Why didn't you tell Booth?" he asked more gently. "I know he gave you the perfect opportunity, opened himself up first – you wouldn't have had to broach the subject cold."

"Because love is nothing more than a biological imperative ... a transient emotion fuelled by chemicals in the brain that react when two physically compatible people are in each other's presence as much as Booth and I have been," Brennan insisted stubbornly. "Those emotions, what we imagine them to be, wear off. They must or ...,"

"Or your rejection of Booth makes no sense," Sweets gently concluded for her.

"Yes," Brennan agreed. "The scans of Booth's brain activity after his coma proved my conclusions – the ventral tegmental and dorsal caudate areas of his brain were simply reacting to the contents of his coma dream – a dream I instigated by reading to him. You knew then just as I did that the effect would fade in time ... and it _has_. I detect no remnants of what Booth alluded to feeling."

"Then I suggest you look closer," Sweets offered gently.

"No," Brennan returned, shaking her head. "He's happy Doctor Sweets ... calm like he hasn't been in a long time. It's not my place to ... I can't ...," she swallowed, looking away. "He's happy."

"He does seem happy," Sweet agreed. "I'd suggest it's because the two of you are back together again but I'm sure you'll have a more rational explanation."

"On the contrary that seems entirely reasonable," Brennan replied. "Our professional partnership is important to both of us and I admit it has been satisfying to return to something we're both very good at. The year spent apart served to illustrate that for each of us."

"At least think about it," Sweets urged. "There are options available ... options that would allow you to continue working together. I can help you with that."

"That won't be necessary," Brennan shook her head. "We're both content with things the way they are."

"Really?" Lance said disbelievingly. "You do realise that's because you don't know what you're missing, right? And that he does? Know what he's missing I mean."

"Like _you_ know, since Daisy left you for the Maluku Island project?" Brennan said in a harsh tone he wasn't used to hearing from her.

"See, now I know I'm getting to you," Sweets didn't take offence. "Deliberate cruelty isn't something you'd have even been capable of before Booth."

"I don't think he'd see that as a compliment," Brennan pointed out.

"No," Lance agreed. He steepled his fingers together, resting his chin atop them as he regarded her thoughtfully.

"What?" she demanded, irritated.

Sweets was a little surprised that she hadn't simply left the instance the conversation went somewhere she wasn't comfortable with. Was she really that worried he'd tell the wrong people about her feelngs for her partner, resulting in her partnership with Booth being dissolved for good? Or was she worried Booth would find out ... and act accordingly?

"Nothing," he shrugged. "I was just wondering what it would take to have you admit your feelings to Booth. More than one near death experience for each of you hasn't done it. Neither has Booth going off to a war zone and the two of you being separated for a year."

"As I've already said, there's nothing for me to admit," Brennan said firmly. "Now you'll have to excuse me Doctor Sweets. Booth will be w-," she paused and visibly regrouped, "that is, I have work to do."

"Of course," Sweets smiled. "We'll save further discussions for next time."

Brennan frowned and then nodded noncommittally before moving quickly to exit his office.

"Dr Brennan," Lance called out when she was at the door. She stopped but didn't turn to look at him. "If love is a transcient emotion driven by biological urges then why haven't your feelings for Booth faded? I mean, six years, that's a long time, isn't it? Shouldn't transcient be a lot shorter than that?"

Brennan looked back at him and he wasn't sure he could have described all the emotions swirling in her eyes ... depair, frustration, resolve, and a fear that had him wanting to comfort her. She said nothing, just gave him that indefineable look before continuing her retreat.

Settling back in his chair Sweets cursed his own prior interference for the hundredth time. If he'd thought a little more, if he'd let Booth express his feelings to Doctor Brennan straight after his coma instead of making him doubt them then perhaps the partners would be somewhere different by now. Not because Brennan would have reacted differently - she'd have crushed Booth in a similar manner but maybe he'd have seen her fear instead of just her rejection, maybe his brush with death would have given him the determination to fight for her instead of just accepting her reasons as being valid.

At the time it had felt like the right thing to do – to protect both of them - but that was because Lance had missed something that should have been obvious, that point even more clear after his conversation today. The reason Booth's pre operation PET scans hadn't shown activity in the romance and love centres of the brain wasn't because he didn't feel them. It was because Booth's love for Brennan was so ingrained that Lance suspected he'd gotten to the point of rarely considering it, not in an active way. His subconscious, communicating through his coma dream, had shaken that, had made him reconsider everything. That's why the post coma scans were different from the pre coma ones. Lance suspected that if he could get a hold of PET scans for Brennan he'd find a similar level of inactivity in those key areas of the brain, even though he now knew with complete certainty that she knew she loved Booth as much as he knew he loved her.

"As a matchmaker you totally suck," he told himself aloud. But still, it was fixable, he had to believe that. They just had to be challenged in a way that wasn't predictable, that would shock them out of their comfort zones. Sweets had no idea what would do that, and given their history together, the grim nature of many of the cases they'd solved, wasn't sure he wanted to find out.

**Authors Note:**

Yes, this is the chapter where I've deliberately skirted the edges on an out of character Brennan. Does she love Booth? Does she _know _she loves Booth? I think there's plenty of evidence there to support a yes to both of those questions and hopefully I've convinced you of the same! (I have more 'evidence' in later chapters from other characters POVs including theirs). In any case if you want to get these two together in a story some OCishness is a requirement since they're not together in the show, more's the pity. I almost don't want to see the beginning of season 6 if it turns out all hopes that they'll get together are dashed ... okay, enough rambling. Opinions? Did I do okay on Sweets? I'm not a psychologist either so I probably broke every psychology rule in their session but hey, that's why they call it fiction LOL! Thanks for reading.


	6. Persons of Interest

**Chapter 6: Persons of Interest**

"_I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel." Maya Angelou._

"What did Sweets want?" Booth asked the question casually when he returned to the Jeffersonian but found his interest sharpening when Bones tensed and looked of all things scared. "Bones?" he waited until she looked at him before raising his brow expectantly.

"Nothing of consequence," Brennan turned away, looking across to where Wendell Bray still worked, placing what looked like the final bones to the now separated skeletons into position. Booth knew there was more to it - Bones was just as terrible at lying with her body language as she was with words - but he respected her unspoken request for him not to pursue it in front of her assistant.

"So, find anything yet?" he asked instead, completing his walk up the stairs until he stood beside one of the two occupied examination tables. He'd gotten a lot more comfortable with the whole skeleton in your face thing and these two at least didn't have the usual decayed flesh, bugs and worst yet smell. He still thought the way the remains were illuminated on the tables was a little disturbing but knew that it helped Bones to find the story behind the victim.

"We're just beginning our detailed examination," Brennan advised briskly.

Booth's brow rose as he realised Bones must have only arrived back to the lab herself, his curiosity over her conversation with Sweets escalating. What had his partner found to talk about with the psychologist for so long? He focussed back on her, looking at her intently. Her hair was pulled back into a pony tail and the lab coat obscured the simple jeans and shirt she still wore from their flight home that morning. Not that Booth cared - she always looked beautiful to him and at least with the lab coat on she wasn't torturing his senses with her ... attributes. '_You've still got some work to do on that acceptance thing'_, Booth thought, knowing he'd have to work hard in the future to hide how much he was still attracted to her. Not so much from Bones herself, but from the more than averagely observant people she worked with.

Maybe it sounded a little twisted but he liked watching her doing her bone lady thing - the intent expression on her face and the complete focus she gave to the task captivated and fascinated him, and not just because the male hormonal part of him wanted nothing more than to have that intensity directed at him.

Picking up the jaw bone of the male, Bones ran the tips of her fingers over the surface, turning it over and examining the inside as well. "Curious," she murmured, putting the bone back into position and pulling the magnification equipment over. Positioning it over the jaw she entered the commands necessary to display the specimen on the screen. Booth stepped closer, watching as she zoomed in on the surface of the bone.

"Have you recorded any magnified images of the bone surfaces?" Bones asked Wendell.

'Not yet Doctor Brennan," Wendell looked slightly pained. "Breaking down the adhesive without damaging the bones took ... a long time," he explained weakly.

"Handling the victims should never be rushed Mr Bray."

Booth held back a smile ... that was as close as Bones got to reassuring her assistants but judging by the way Wendell relaxed, it was enough for the young squint.

Brennan turned her attention back to the victims, leaning closer and narrowing her eyes as she assessed the magnified image on screen. "These look like striations from some kind of abrasion applied directly to the mandible but they're much smaller and too numerous to have been made by flesh eating scavengers."

"You think the killer called in an army of rodents to eat the flesh off his victims?" Booth grimaced, finding the idea distasteful.

"I don't have enough evidence to draw any conclusions," Brennan shifted the magnifier to focus on another area. "See here?" She pointed to the screen and waited for Wendell to explain it.

"The same minute striations," Wendell confirmed.

"Yes, and of a nature I've never seen before," Brennan added. "We need to explain these markings Mr Bray," she gave her assistant the task in a non nonsense manner that was an obvious vote of confidence to her assistant.

"I'll begin searching for a likely cause," Wendell said promptly.

"Well, we have offically confirme positive identification on both victims," Angela announced as she arrived on the platform, a folder clutched to her chest. "Dental records match for Clarissa Harper and a visual match from my reconstruction of the male victim to the photo and information on the national missing persons database." She stepped forward and pressed a few keys to replace Brennan's close up of the victim's ulna with a picture of the same handsome, studious looking man Booth and Brennan had seen a photo of earlier that day in the kitchen of a grieving mother. "It is Doctor Nathan Evans, 34, history professor, missing two years."

"That's our guy," Booth shoved his hands in his pockets, rocking forward. "The girl's mother said he didn't have a family but we can still talk to his work colleagues. Maybe the motive is on his side, not the girl's."

"Men traditionally _are_ responsible for most of the world's conflicts," Brennan offered that fact in the cool intellectual tone that never failed to rile Booth.

"What, you're equating warfare with murder now?" Booth shot back, irritated by the implication.

"Not at all," Brennan replied. "I'm simply pointing out that anthropologically speaking the male of the species is engineered more towards acts of aggression than females."

"Maybe you should go back to Vegas, see if our victims really were going there to elope," Angela suggested before Booth could respond.

"We'll hold another trip into the desert in reserve," Booth looked at Angela, silently letting her know her redirection attempt had been noted ... and appreciated. "Bones, time to put the bones down and go visit the Smithsonian before they close for the day – that's if you're done insulting males as a species."

"I was simply stating a fact," Brennan insisted. "One you could confirm yourself with minimal effort."

"Fine," Booth ground out. "Smithsonian," he made an expansive gestured that invited her to lead the way.

"Examine each of the bones on both victims under magnification," Brennan told Wendell. "Along with explaining the striations we still need to determine cause of death."

"He knows what to do Bones," Booth reminded her for the second time that day.

"You're right," Brennan surprised him by agreeing. "I have every confidence in you Mr Bray," she said briskly. Smiling to both Wendell and Angela she swept from the room, not looking back to see if Booth was following.

"I'll just ...," Booth gestured vaguely, gave them an awkward smile of his own, and then hurried after his partner.

* * *

Angela watched them go, her eyes narrowed. She hadn't wanted to see a return to their old combative style of communication but ... they were kind of cute when they did that and she'd missed seeing them arguing. Everything had been careful and reasonable and ... frankly beyond boring since they'd gotten back. Maybe a little bit of spice would do everyone some good.

"Is it just me or did the tension level between them just ramp up a notch?" Angela grinned at Wendell.

"At least a notch," Wendell agreed. "Lucky Clark isn't here this week."

"He doesn't despise the personal interactions as much as he says – no one is that straight-laced," Angela returned. "Can I help?" she nodded towards their waiting skeletons.

"Could you do a detailed scan of all the bones, feed it into your simulator?" Wendell asked hopefully.

"For you sweetie, of course," Angela agreed.

* * *

"So, are you going to tell me what Sweets said to you?" Booth asked. They'd gotten back into his car and travelled more than half the distance to the Smithsonian without her having said a word. He'd rung the main office before heading back to the Jeffersonian and had the name of Nathan Evans' teaching assistant, the guy who'd taken over lecturing when Evans had disappeared.

"Do you always tell me everything the two of you talk about?" Brennan glanced at him before looking back out her window.

"Ah ... so, I spoke to the Assistant Director about Sweets' serial killer theory," Booth changed the subject abruptly. "We've got someone looking for like crimes but I'm pretty sure we won't find anything, not that way. If another set of skeletons matching the same M.O. had been found anytime in the last six years we'd already know about it."

"That seems like a logical conclusion," Brennan agreed.

"Charlie's compiling a list of couples who've gone missing in the past five years but unless we can narrow down the parameters I don't think that's gonna give us much either," Booth grimaced. "We may not be able to confirm that this is even the work of a serial killer - not without something else to go on."

"I too am hesitant to place much hope on the findings of my team," Bones frowned. "I know you don't believe that a perfect crime is possible, but so far we have few details to provide even a basis for further investigation."

"Patience Bones," Booth urged. "Leads turn up sometimes out of the blue. You know that as well as I do. We just need a little luck."

"I'm not sure that I believe in luck," Brennan murmured.

Booth shot her a narrow eyed glance but decided it wasn't the time to call her up on her statement. The Smithsonian wasn't far so it only took a few minutes for them to get there and check in at the front desk for directions to the lecture hall where Nathan Evans had taught.

Class was just breaking out and Booth half smiled at the universal way students had of being in a hurry to leave. He'd been the same – in fact it was probably only the super smart kids like Bones would have been who'd hung around after class.

"Doctor Alveraz?" Booth led the way to the front of the room, stopping in front of a small, middle aged man with glasses and a stack of books under one arm.

"Yes?" the lecturer asked curiously.

"FBI Special Agent Seeley Booth," Booth held up his badge. "This is my partner Doctor Temperance Brennan of the Jeffersonian Institution."

"Really?" The man's interest perked up abruptly.

"Don't tell me - you've heard of her," Booth wasn't surprised.

"Of course," Alveraz smiled at Bones. "Your recent work in the Maluku Islands is of great interest historically. We're planning a series of lectures for later in the semester – living history in the deceased. It would be wonderful if I could talk to you about your findings."

"Ease up there Doctor Enthusiastic," Booth straightened, not liking the way the guy had edged too close to Bones. "We're not here for you. We're investigating the murder of Doctor Nathan Evans and have a few questions."

"He's dead?"

Alveraz looked genuinely surprised but Booth knew too often that didn't mean much of anything. "You sound surprised," he commented. "What did you think he'd been doing these past two years?"

"I don't know," Alveraz admitted. "I just always thought he'd gotten sick of the routine and packed it in to go live on a yacht or something."

"He had a yacht?" Booth asked.

"Ah – no, I just meant I thought he'd traded his old life in for a new one, especially after meeting his girl."

"What girl?"

"Pretty, young," Alveraz said vaguely. "Clarissa something ... sorry, I can't remember her last name. Anyway, Nathan was over the moon about her. It was like he changed overnight."

"Did you resent that?" Booth asked blandly.

"What?" Alveraz gulped, suddenly getting the implication. "No, of course not! It was actually kind of inspiring. If a guy like Nathan could score a hot young chick like her there was hope for the rest of us."

"What does that mean, a guy _like_ Doctor Evans?" Brennan queried.

"Nathan was a great guy but before Clarissa he didn't exactly go out much," Alveraz explained. "He was one of those practical types, didn't have a lot of time for the touchy feely crap. To tell you the truth we were all a little surprised when he started talking about changing his priorities. Said it was true love, can you believe that?"

"It's been known to happen," Booth said dismissively. "Anyone who wasn't as happy about Nathan's reversal of romantic fortunes?"

"Not really," Alveraz began. "Maybe Chloe – she kind of fancied herself for Nathan. Never looked happy whenever he talked about Clarissa."

"Chloe who?"

"Chloe Carpenter, works in one of the museums on campus. You gonna interrogate her like you have me?"

"Our conversation hardly qualifies as an interrogation," Brennan answered for her partner. "Agent Booth excels at interrogating suspects so you should count yourself fortunate to have escaped the necessity."

"For now," Booth added, smiling a little at his partner's praise. "So, you got the lead job when Evans disappeared, is that right?"

"Yes," Alveraz held up a hand, speaking quickly. "Wait, no way. I _didn't _off Nathan so I could get his job!. I already had a proper lecturing gig lined up - I only hung around here because they needed someone and no one was sure when Nathan would get back. I can give you details - it'll check out. It might have been lucky for me that Nathan disappeared but I didn't do anything except take up the opportunity."

"Where were you during the week when Doctor Evans went missing?" Booth asked without acknowledging the man's explanation.

"_Here_, teaching," Alveraz sounded more than a little frustrated. "No way was the Institute going to give both it's history lecturers leave at the same time! Again, you can check that out with the office here - they'd have attendance records."

"We will check out your story Doctor," Booth promised. "And if I find that you lied to me I'm going to come back here and personally make you regret that, understood?" The other man nodded weakly and Booth smiled. "Good ... don't go anywhere Doctor Alveraz, we might have more questions for you later."

"Oh, ah yeah, sure, I ah, I wasn't planning on going anywhere," Alveraz stuttered.

"Where do we find Ms Carpenter?" Booth gave the guy his business face, the 'I have things in my past that make me the scariest person you'll ever meet' one. Alveraz swallowed nervously and then quickly gave them directions, looking amusingly relieved when they turned to leave.

"You were a little hard on him," Bones commented once they were out of earshot.

"Yeah, well I didn't like the way he looked at you," Booth realised too late how that sounded and quickly backpedalled. "The guy's a fawner – the type who sees everything only in how it will benefit him."

"Also, he didn't seem affected by the news of Doctor Evans's death," Brennan agreed. "For someone who seemed to know more than a little about the victim that did strike me as unusual."

"His alibis will check out though," Booth shrugged. "He's an unpleasant individual but that doesn't make him a murderer." He glanced at a sign directing foot traffic around campus, choosing the right direction. "Let's go see if we can get a more emotional reaction from someone else."

They located the museum easily, along with Chloe Carpenter and Booth ran through the usual introductions before getting down to business.

"You knew Nathan Evans?" Booth moved smoothly into his standard questions. He judged that Chloe was late twenties, a few years older than their vic, and plain in a way that had nothing to do with how she looked. It was an attitude, a demeanour that suggested she expected to be overlooked because the world was fuelled by those who were beautiful and those who weren't. Seeley hadn't missed the hint of 'that'd be right' anger in the girl's eyes as she'd taken in Brennan's physical appearance when he'd introduced her.

"Very well, yes," Chloe replied briskly. Her eyes widened and she gasped. "You found him?"

"Something like that," Booth agreed. "When was the last time you saw him?"

"February 12th, two years ago."

Brennan frowned. "In my experience people aren't usually so exact in their answers, especially after so long. How is it that you're so certain Ms Carpenter?"

"_Because_ it was the last time I saw him," Chloe said it like it should be obvious. "Nathan and I shared a special connection. He was going on vacation and came to say goodbye personally."

"Right before he went off to Vegas with his _girlfriend_," Booth pointed out. "Yeah, I can see that made you angry."

"She was just a phase he had to go through. Clarissa seduced him with her looks and her charms and her 'I'm an artist' act. Nathan would have realised it wasn't real and then he'd have come back to me."

"_Back_ to you?" Booth looked deliberately sceptical. "That suggests that he was _with_ you some time in the past but from what I hear the guy was a little oblivious to romance before he met Clarissa."

"Nathan and I shared a deep friendship, more important that fleeting romances," Chloe's eyes filled with tears. "I wouldn't expect you to understand."

"You'd be surprised," Booth muttered under his breath, ignoring the frown Bones gave him. "Right, so Nathan came to say goodbye and that's the last you heard from him? Did he say what he was doing in Vegas?"

"Clarissa was corrupting him with gambling," Chloe snorted derisively. "Someone of her intellectual inferiority would never have been good enough for Nathan. He has a genius IQ you know."

"Sounds like you're his number one fan," Booth smiled blandly. "You ever been to Joshua Tree National Park Chloe?"

"What?" Chloe stared in confusion from Booth to Bones and then back again.

"Let me rephrase that," Booth said smoothly. "Where were you two years ago when Nathan and Clarissa disappeared in Vegas?"

"I ... ah, I can't remember," Chloe dissembled. "Working I guess."

"The inconsistency of your responses casts suspicion on your prior actions," Brennan said academically. "On the one hand you were able to remember the exact date you last saw Doctor Evans but at the same time you cannot recall anything else about that same time period? Cognitively speaking that seems unlikely."

"I _told_ you, I only remember the date because it was the last time I saw Nathan," Chloe protested.

"That makes perfect sense but for one thing," Booth said quietly. "You wouldn't have known it would be the last time you'd see him ... not for however many weeks it would have taken to realise that fact."

Chloe looked at him mutely, her eyes welling up with tears, her expression tortured.

"Look, I'd suggest you start remembering exactly where you were February two years ago or there'll be other events you'll remember equally as vividly, starting with a trip to the interrogation room at the FBI," Booth made his tone harsh and intimidating.

"You don't know what it's like to love someone so much you can't think if they're not around!" Chloe burst out, tears brimming over to run down her face. Wiping them away impatiently, the girl sniffed, her eyes imploring Booth for something. "That's all I remember ... that Nathan left me and he never came back. You can't know ... how hard it is to see someone you love walk away like that."

"Actually I can," Booth said gently. Sometimes you had to give a little of yourself, make a connection, in order to get the information you needed ... even when doing so cut too close to things you wouldn't normally even think about. Booth deliberately ignored Bones, purposefully putting her presence out of his mind as he continued. "Nathan was your friend but he was more than that, wasn't he? You loved him ... even though he couldn't love you back. I understand how that feels Ms Carpenter and I _know _you want to help Nathan because it doesn't matter that he didn't choose you. You can't switch off something like that, right? You tell me what you know and I promise you it _will _help us find out what happened to Nathan."

Chloe had listened to him silently, her eyes locked to his as though she were trying to read the truth there. "I ...," she swallowed, sniffing back more tears. "I followed him," she admitted in a rush. "But not to do anything! I just wanted to see them you know, see what he was leaving me for, see what was so special about her. I only stayed a day." She laughed harshly. "He was oblivious to everything but _her_ and I knew I'd never be anything to him so I came home. Ask my Mom – I was living at home then – came back and cried all over her."

"We will need to confirm your story," Bones said. Booth could feel her glance but he kept his attention on Chloe as his partner continued. "Did you see anyone else paying Doctor Evans or Ms Harper undue attention?"

"Ah ...," Chloe frowned as she considered the question. "It was really busy and I couldn't get too close without Nathan spotting me. I don't think so though, you know. Not with the crowd they were in."

"What crowd?" Booth asked.

"Intended newlyweds," Chloe admitted reluctantly. "Happens every February around Valentine's Day – they have special functions, social gatherings, stuff like that. Exclusive to couples eloping. I didn't see anyone with Nathan and Clarissa but I couldn't get in without a partner. That's why I gave up – Nathan just wasn't the eloping type. It was impulsive and just ... it wasn't him. If he intended to do that with Clarissa then he wasn't the man I thought he was."

"Angela was right," Brennan commented in a low tone.

"Yeah," Booth agreed. Looking at Chloe with sympathy he nodded. "Thank you Ms Carpenter ... we might have further questions so don't go running off anywhere, okay?"

"Okay," Chloe wiped her eyes on one sleeve, looking up at Booth with her mask of resentment lowered enough for him to see a vulnerability and openness that let her true attractiveness shine through. "He's dead isn't he?"

"Yes," Booth trusted his gut enough to judge her reaction as the truth - her despairing tears and the way her whole body trembled as she tried to hold the emotions in was something that couldn't be faked. She hadn't known, which crossed her off the suspect list as far as he was concerned.

"I guess I'm not as over him as I thought huh?" Chloe swiped at her face self consciously.

"You had the kind of true friendship you never get over," Booth said gently. "We're sorry for your loss."

"Thank you," Chloe nodded. "I'll think about everything that was happening then – maybe I can help you find who did this."

"You've already helped Ms Carpenter," Brennan said softly. "We will inform you should we require more information."

Booth waited for Bones to fall into step beside him, the two of them walking quietly from the museum and back to the SUV.

"You believe her?" Bones asked once they were inside.

"Yeah, don't you?" Booth had his hand on the ignition but he didn't turn the key.

"Her reactions seemed sincere," Brennan agreed. She hesitated a moment and then spoke. "You seemed to understand her very well."

"Empathy," Booth said simply. He glanced at Bones before looking away, starting the engine decisively. "Sometimes it's too easy to put yourself in someone else's shoes."

"I feel like I should be apologising," Bones said softly.

"What for?" Booth went for confused innocence, pulling into traffic and heading back to the Jeffersonian.

"Don't do that Booth," Bones returned impatiently. "Please."

"Don't do what?" Booth took a moment to glance at her. She was angry at his evasions ... not that she had any right to be. He wasn't the one who'd decided to leave their friendship behind for a year. He wasn't the one who'd crushed her heart into the dirt and denied them any chance of a real future together ... great, now he was angry too! "What - you want me to admit I understood from personal experience where that girl was coming from?" he demanded. "That I'm taking this a little too personally? Fine, I admit it. Happy now?"

"No," Brennan said simply. "I was hoping you'd see that your friendship is just as important to me as I hope mine is to you."

Booth glanced in his side mirror and then pulled to the side of the road abruptly. The anger he'd been feeling moments before evaporated as quickly as it had arisen, leaving him contemplating the right thing to say. He sat with the engine running, eyes on the steering wheel before resolutely turning to face her.

"I missed you," he said it quietly and somehow that made the simple statement all the more powerful. "All the time ... and it never got any easier, not after the first month, not after twelve months. That's how important you are to me, okay."

"Booth," Brennan pressed her lips together, her eyes troubled and ... nervous.

Booth could almost see the way her heart rate kicked up. That wasn't the response she'd been expecting and he knew it would throw her ... rock the steady little boat she had their partnership travelling in and probably scare her too. She'd brought it up first, challenged him to make it personal but maybe he should have toned back his response. "Don't worry Bones," he said easily, turning his attention back to driving. Merging into the traffic again he threw her a quick smile. "We're okay. You don't have to do anything to fix us. Let's just focus on the case, okay?"

"Okay," Brennan agreed quietly.

**Authors Note:**

So, my first really big chapter of mostly Booth POV ... hope it's in character! I really like writing him actually ... and oh, I stumbled across (while actively searching LOL) a David Boreanaz movie last night on youtube - Mr Fix It - I loved it, silliness and all! I must stumble across other works of his *grins*.

I reply to all my reviews so you all know how much I appreciate the comments I've gotten so far. (Special thanks to those who've followed me over from Stargate fanfic land!) I'd love to hear from more of you so please take a few moments to let me know what you think of the story so far. I keep reading and rereading these chapters before I post worried I'm going to make a mistake and mess up the whole story ... any errors are mine and mine alone but I hope they're all minor!

Still lots of story to come ... hope everyone sticks with reading this!


	7. Serial killer

**Chapter 7: Serial killer**

"_Love involves a peculiar unfathomable combination of understanding and misunderstanding." Diane Arbus_

Booth left Brennan at the Jeffersonian and continued on to the Hoover building to find out how Charlie had done on his missing couples list before the other man went home for the day. He turned on his computer, yawning absently - it had begun to feel like one of those never going to reach the end days - and had barely had a chance to pick up the phone before Agent Burns arrived at his office.

"I've got your list," Charlie held out a USB stick with a shrug. "I don't know how it's gonna help though – you take the whole of the U.S. into account and there are a lot more missing couples than I would have thought possible before I started looking."

"How far back did you go?" Booth took the stick, tossing it up in the air and then catching it again.

"Five years so far," Charlie replied. "I can go back further if you want?"

"Nah, that should be enough," Booth shook his head. "Before you go, can you ring the Bellagio in Vegas, find out what you can about the week Evans and Harper were there?"

"I'm on it," Burns nodded, spun on a heel and was quickly out the door.

Booth turned back to his laptop, intent on plugging in the stick but before he could his computer pinged and then the video program window opened to show Hodgins at the other end.

"Booth," he began. "Thought you'd want to know that I've dated the remains, give or take a month. The victims didn't decomposed at the scene so the usual methods didn't apply. There was no evidence of insect activity on the bones themselves but I did find the remains of Moneilema gigas - the cactus longhorn beetle," he added before Booth could ask, "in the soil scrapings from the underlying rock." Hodgins' image shrunk to half a screen, the other half showing an unremarkable looking black beetle. "They're desert insects who hide under anything they can find during the hottest part of the day – including skeletal remains. The cactus longhorn has a regular, seasonal lifecycle and I found evidence of at least two generations having lived out their lives under our victims. That and Wendell's measurements of weather cracking in the bones consistent with extended summer exposure puts our initial timeline pretty close to two years ago."

"So the killer took them, killed them and dumped them all within the space of a couple of weeks max," Booth concluded. "Thanks Hodgins. Anything on cause of death?"

"No," Hodgins leaned forward a little. "That interesting pattern of abrasions Dr B found on the male victim's mandible and ulna is clearly visible at the microscopic level. Turns out it's on every bone too – on both skeletons. We're going over the victims again, looking for traces of anything to explain that."

"Okay, keep at it," Booth said. "Call me if you find anything."

"Will do," Hodgins said as his face disappeared from the screen.

Booth settled back in his chair, putting his hands behind his head as he thought about what they knew so far. Clarissa and Nathan had disappeared almost two years ago to the week. The fact that they'd been a couple in love and about to elope – around Valentine's Day too – wasn't lost on him.

Calling up the data Charlie had sent through Booth groaned when he saw how many names were on the list. The National Crime Information Centre's Missing Person File had a hundred thousand people plus on it at any one time – even keeping just the ones who hadn't disappeared alone that still left thousands of entries to search through. Going with a hunch he narrowed the list down by eliminating everyone who hadn't disappeared in February. "That's more like it," he leaned forward, calling up detailed information on the ones he had left.

"Let's see what we've got here," Seeley ran through the stats – dates and places they'd disappeared from along with their demographics. Lots of variety there but ... Booth's eyes narrowed as he realised there was a pattern. Digging through the NCIC database himself, Booth went back ten years before he was satisfied he had as complete a picture as they could get. Printing off the data he highlighted the pertinent records and then took it to his boss.

"Sweets was right Sir," Booth said, stopping in the doorway of Assistant Director Andrew Hacker's office. "We've got ourselves a serial killer here – the victims Bones and I are investigating are number five on a list going back at least seven years." He put the page down on the Director's desk, pointing to each entry. "Steven Marshall and Jane Woods disappeared February 13th 2005 from Las Vegas. Matthew Bishop and Elisa Penbroke, February 13th 2006, also Vegas," Booth ran down the list until he got to their victims. "Nathan Evans and Clarissa Harper, called their friends and family on February 12th 2010 from the Bellagio and were never heard from again. And last year, Jonathon Brown and Maggie Bennett, again, February 13th, last seen in Las Vegas."

"So what you're saying is we've got a Valentine's Day killer," Andrew grimaced. "Well, that's going to go down well in the press, particularly given we've got less than a week until this year's day of lovers." The Assistant Director sighed before looking at Booth expectantly. "Please tell me you have leads Agent Booth."

"Not exactly. The guy is very thorough," Seeley explained the situation. "Cleans the victims down to the bones like they do at the Jeffersonian – Bones and the squints are still trying to determine exactly how. We don't have a crime scene and so far nothing's jumping out from talking to the victim's families or co-workers. He's under the radar because none of the other victims were ever found and the missing persons reports were filed in different states anywhere from a day to weeks after the disappearances. No one was looking so no one saw the connection to Vegas, or to the specific time of year." Booth paused and then finished it. "We should search the Joshua Tree National Park."

"You think the other victims will be out there too?"

"Stands to reason," Booth pointed out. "There are parts of that park no one's been to at least as long as our killer's been active. Once the first ones weren't found he'd have gotten cocky – why change something when you're getting away with it?"

"Commandeer the teams you need – have the local office down there co-ordinate the search," Andrew said decisively. "They can transport anything they find back to the Jeffersonian."

"Yes Sir," Booth nodded, turning quickly to get the search into motion.

* * *

"Can I ask you something?"

Cam looked up from her desk to see Doctor Brennan standing just inside her doorway. "You already did," she pointed out. Seeing the troubled expression on her colleague's face she nodded, motioning Temperance inside. "What is it Doctor Brennan?"

"You've known Booth for a long time, which would suggest that you know him well," Brennan began.

"Yes, although I'd expect not as well as you do," Cam replied. When Brennan looked disconcerted, Cam held in a smile with difficulty. "You two _have_ been partners for several years."

"Yes, of course," Brennan smiled tightly. She hesitated for a moment, looking like she was about to change her mind and then blurted out her question. "Do you think he's okay? With being back, with ... everything?"

"_And there's a whole can of worms I don't want to even look into_," Cam thought. She wasn't sure whether Doctor Brennan knew just how much Cam knew about her circumstances with Seeley. He'd confessed to loving his partner, although not in those precise words. Cam was sure he'd told Brennan how he felt because that had certainly been his intention post waking from his coma. Not that she'd needed him to tell her – Cam had known he was gone on Temperance Brennan almost from the moment she'd taken on the Forensic Pathology job at the Jeffersonian, and certainly before her own relationship with him had ended. She was sure that Seeley had made his feelings clear and equally sure that the woman in front of her had let her fear crush any chance for that confession to have a positive outcome. None of those who knew either Seeley or Temperance were naive enough to believe the year's separation had been purely career driven. Cam had kept her opinions to herself though, particularly since their return. The partnership between them seemed to be working again ... and if that saddened her a little then it was certainly nothing she'd ever admit to anyone else.

"Why do you ask?" Cam delayed giving an answer to Brennan's question, wanting to understand better what was driving it.

"Our current case, the entwined skeletons," Brennan explained. Cam had been kept in the loop but given the absence of flesh on the remains hadn't actively worked on the case. "We were questioning a colleague of the male victim – a woman who'd had feelings for the victim – and Booth ... he seemed to have a personal reaction that isn't consistent with what I believed of his current state of mind. He seemed ... angry."

It was convoluted but Cam was used to interpreting the way Brennan approached interpersonal situations. "Did you question Booth about his reaction?"

"Yes," Brennan said irritably. "He said something that would suggest -," she stopped. "His answer discounted the need for me to concern myself and pointed to our partnership still being as strong as it ever was."

"But that didn't alleviate your concerns," Cam concluded. She hesitated a moment, looking at Brennan closely and seeing the unease in the way she held herself. Even though it had taken a lot longer than Cam would have thought possible, she still believed that it was inevitable that Booth and Brennan _would _eventually confront their feelings – from _both_ sides. Doctor Brennan's current discomfort suggested that she too was aware of the looming confrontation, even if just subconsciously.

"It wouldn't be inconsistent for Booth to gloss over his own concerns to provide a smoother working environment," Brennan replied. "So, do you think he's okay?"

"What I think is that the circumstances are a lot more complex than I'm privy to, not that I want to know more than I already do," Cam said quickly.

"Now you're being just as vague as Booth was," Brennan was clearly frustrated. "Why is it so hard to just agree to a course of action and then proceed accordingly?"

"Because people aren't mindless machines without feeling Doctor," Cam said gently. "Your partnership with Seeley is multi-layered – as it should be. I'm not sure Doctor Sweets himself would be able to reassure you because the future is uncertain. We might wish it were otherwise but life – _real_ life – just doesn't work that way."

"I'm aware of that," Brennan frowned. "So you think I shouldn't worry? You don't think Booth is holding back key information about our partnership that I should know about?"

"I think that if you aren't ready to hear the full truth from Booth then you're certainly not ready to hear it from me," Cam held up a hand when Brennan made to protest. "Trust Seeley, Doctor Brennan."

"Of course," Brennan looked thoughtful for a moment and then nodded, turning and leaving Cam's office without another word.

"You're welcome," Cam muttered under her breath. Shaking her head she smiled, wondering what the rest of them would talk about once Booth and Brennan finally did get their act together.

* * *

"There's nothing," Brennan murmured, glaring down at the bones as though accusing them of being duplicitous in that complaint.

"What are you still doing here?" Booth had taken a moment to observe her from the shadows and frowned when his partner almost jumped when he verbally announced his presence. He'd finished up at the FBI, gone home, showered and changed clothes before heading out to find Bones ... exactly where he knew she'd been even though it was close to 11 pm.

"Don't scare me like that!" she protested, glaring at _him _now.

"I shouldn't have been able to scare you," he pointed out that he hadn't exactly snuck through the doors to the Jeffersonian. "You shouldn't be here by yourself at this time of night, especially when you're paying more attention to your bones than you are to your surrounds."

"I can't see it Booth," Brennan turned back to the skeletons. "Usually by now I have a sense of how they died, but not this time. It's like the killer wiped away my ability to visualise the crime when he cleaned the bones."

"Or maybe it's just that it's late and you've had a long day," Booth countered. "We've been up since dawn Bones ... seventeen hour days will make even you lose your edge. Don't you think it's time to call it quits for today?"

"We haven't made any progress Booth," Brennan returned insistently.

"Hey, that's not entirely true," he returned, pulling out the sheet of paper with the names of the couples he'd extracted from the missing persons database and handing it to her.

Brennan read the details quickly and then looked up at him. "You think all of these disappearances are the work of the same killer?"

"Look at the dates Bones," Booth insisted. "They all disappeared from Las Vegas just before Valentine's Day - one for every year since 2005. I still need to chase down the details but I'm thinking our guy lets the psycho out of the bag every February, chooses a couple about to elope, and then kills them."

"We don't have any evidence to support that supposition Booth," Brennan pointed out logically. "You could equally argue that more couples than expected have disappeared from Vegas over the Valentine's period simply because a larger than usual proportion of couples are present at that time."

"Come on Bones!" Seeley did his 'argue passionately in a passionate voice' thing. "He's looking for couples to match some kind of twisted vision of love he's got in his head, like Sweets said. What better place than Vegas over Valentine's day? My money's on him working for one of the hotels. That way he can move around freely, sus out the candidates before he makes his selection. He'll have some kind of hold out where he takes them – he prepares them and then he displays them, somewhere so remote that only one set of victims has been found in seven years."

"It doesn't matter how logical you make it sound if I can't find anything to prove it!" Brennan turned her eyes back to their victims. "I just ... there _has_ to be something I'm missing."

"You're tired," Booth reiterated, moving forward slowly. Putting his hands on her shoulders he squeezed lightly. "Come on, I'll take you home. You can come back to this fresh in the morning. We'll talk to the parents of the first victims on the list."

"But ... I should - ," she broke off when he looked at her pointedly, the message clear. If she didn't go willingly he'd make her, and neither of them would be comfortable with that. "Fine. I'll just grab my coat and bag."

Booth watched her hurry away to her office, loitering by the doors as he waited for her to return. Five minutes later they were in his SUV and he was pulling up outside Wong Foo's.

"What are we doing here?" Brennan frowned out the window.

"I rang ahead," Booth admitted. "Sid said he'd put a few things together for us. We can eat at your place where I'll let you talk my ear off about the case if that's what you want. Okay?" He smiled hopefully.

"Okay," Brennan sighed but Booth knew she wasn't that reluctant - if she had been she'd have just told him to take her home.

"Great," smiling, Booth quickly opened his door and jumped out. "I'll be right back," he said unnecessarily. He was true to his word though, reappearing only minutes later with a box containing the familiar packages of Chinese food.

Back at Brennan's place he let her organise the food portion of the night while he took care of drinks, bringing two already opened beers back to her coffee table.

"To catching the bad guys, no matter how hard they try to hide their tracks," he said simply, clinking his bottle against hers before taking a generous swallow.

"And to Nathan and Clarissa, who did nothing more than pursue an anachronistic institution that unfortunately seems likely to have contributed to their deaths," Brennan returned.

Booth almost choked on his beer, lowering his bottle to frown at Bones.

"What?" she demanded innocently.

"I'm just surprised you'd offer up a toast to the victims," Booth began. "Plus, you know, it comes over as a little insincere when you do it by criticising their choices."

"I wasn't criticising them," Bones denied. "I was simply pointing out that were it not for their being in Las Vegas when they were, they'd in all likelihood still be alive."

"So what you're saying is that wanting to get married killed them?"

"No, a psychotic serial killer did that," Brennan said impatiently. "I don't know why you're taking this so personally."

"You really don't see it?" Booth asked incredulously.

"See what?" Bones frowned.

"They're us!" Booth exclaimed, the expression in his eyes holding her in place. "Him - academic, socially awkward, doesn't really get the whole romance thing. And her - creative, risk taker, follows her feelings instead of the rules. Who do they sound like to you?"

"You're suggesting that my personality mirrors Doctor Evans, while yours mirrors Ms Harper?" Bones deduced with a frown. "Perhaps there are some similarities but that doesn't make us in any way the same as them. We're not together romantically and I would never let _anyone_ 'sweep me off my feet' – I don't even know what that means."

He wasn't sure later why he did it. Maybe it was that too calm, matter-of-fact statement about the absence of a romance between them. Maybe it was the fact that she scoffed at the very idea that anyone could sweep her away from her reasoned approach to everything. Maybe the alpha male part of him couldn't resist the challenge that implied. And maybe he'd been listening to Bones for too long.

"Sweeping you off your feet," he repeated, taking her bottle and putting it on the table beside where they sat on the couch. "It means opening your eyes to new possibilities," he continued, putting a hand on the couch on either side of her head. Leaning closer he capturing her gaze with his. "Dazzling you with passion so that you lose control," his lips hovered over hers, part of him surprised that she hadn't pushed him away already. "Making you want something so badly that you're willing to give up a part of yourself to get it."

They'd had plenty of those moments in the past ... where he leaned too close and she let him; where his eyes were glued to hers and they stared at each other until something inevitably interrupted them. Only this time there was nothing to break the spell ... nothing to stop the magnetic pull that drew them together. Their lips touched, lightly at first before Booth returned to deepen the contact. It was like an instant replay of that first night in the rain, only that time it had been tequila fuelled and facilitated by the fact that he'd just fired her. This time he didn't have those excuses.

"Booth," Temperance murmuring his name with genuine desire in her voice should have been the answer to all his prayers. She'd taken over now, pulling him down to her and running her hands up his back. Instead of giving in he was up off the couch and standing over her, heart pounding and breath coming too fast before he'd fully registered the need to break away.

"I ah ... I don't know what that was," Booth stammered, looking at her with a slightly horrified expression. "I'm sorry Bones, I guess I just got a little bit carried away trying to prove a point."

"You were trying to prove ... a point?" Brennan looked dazed for a moment before her gaze sharpened.

"Ah ... not deliberately?" Booth watched her carefully for a reaction, wondering if she was about to smack the crap out of him. After all, it wouldn't be the first time.

"And you think a point can be made with something as meaningless as a kiss?" Bones asked in a tone that suggested she knew something he didn't, something that made that endeavour ridiculous.

Booth narrowed his own eyes, deciding he didn't like that tone one little bit. Was she challenging him to defend once again that there _was _a difference between what she'd call biological imperatives and what he'd call romance? Usually he'd argue a little and then let it go but tonight, after a too long day that had already challenged him on a personal level multiple times, Booth found he wasn't feeling that generous.

"You and I both know there's no such thing as a 'meaningless kiss', not between us," he countered forcefully. "Not now, not since day one."

"Oh please," Bones argued back, "if we'd given in to our urges back then it would have ended in a heated affair that burned itself out quickly. Denial forced by your FBI rules required us to ignore what was simply an understandable sexual attraction, thereby making it into more than what it was. Your own religion stems from a forbidden act becoming too great a lure to resist so you should understand that better than most."

"I think your memory's a little faulty there Bones," Booth sat on the edge of the coffee table, leaned in close again and had the satisfaction of seeing her instinctive retreat. "No, as I recall it was _you _who halted the whole 'give into our urges' thing right when it was getting interesting. And not because of any rules – I fired you, remember? And you know, I've always wondered about that."

"About what?" Bones pressed her back into the sofa and Seeley smiled at her obvious attempt to create some distance between them.

"About why exactly it was that you went from 'we're not working together so we can have sex' to 'we are not spending the night together' – all in the space of minutes," Booth grinned, like a hunter about to hone in on the prey. "We weren't that drunk that you'd just change your mind like that. No, what I think is that you suspected, after those first kisses, that it wouldn't just be sex between us and it scared the crap out of you. So you ran rather than take the risk of being proven right."

"I -," she swallowed nervously, staring up at him mutely.

"That's it?" Booth asked incredulously after long moments of silence. "Have I finally rendered the great Doctor Temperance Brennan speechless?"

She just looked up at him, her expression almost tortured, and suddenly he came to his senses. What was he doing, pushing her like this? Even if she admitted that yes, in that instance seven years ago she'd foreseen the kind of meaningful relationship between them that scared her to the core, so what? It wouldn't change the fact that she hadn't wanted his heart – not seven years ago, not a year ago, not now. He'd put himself out there with Bones once, just like he'd put himself on the line for Rebecca years before that. And yet he was the one alone and too aware of the fact. Andwhile a part of him believed Temperance felt something more for him than just friendship and partnership what did it matter if she wouldn't allow herself to live it?

And why the hell was he even thinking about it? He'd accepted the situation, had been genuinely happy just to have Bones back in his life again, and a case, no matter how much it stabbed at his heart, wasn't going to alter that. Rearing back abruptly, he turned away, dropping his head into his hands. "I'm sorry Bones," he muttered. "Maybe Sweets was right – maybe I do take these cases a little too personally. Just forget I ever said anything, okay?"

"Okay," Temperance sat beside him, still watching him intently.

"We're okay, right?" Booth glanced at her quickly.

"Of course," Bones smiled.

"Great," Booth clapped his hands together briskly. "So, how about that food, huh?"

It was awkward to start with but within a few minutes they'd settled back into their usual pattern of communication, each determinedly putting the prior scene down as a momentary aberration. Their partnership had survived worse and would continue to weather what either partner could throw at it. Because that's the way they needed it to be.

* * *

"Brennan," Bones answered her phone briskly early the next morning.

"Bones. How far away from getting into work are you?" Booth's businesslike tone had her on the alert instantly.

"I was just about to leave," she reported. "Why?"

"They found another one," Booth said grimly. "Should be arriving at the Jeffersonian within the hour. We need an ID as soon as possible." He paused and then sighed. "There'll be more, you know that right? The ones he's already done and the one he's planning right now, if we don't catch him first."

"I'm on my way," Brennan promised.

"Right, I'll see you there."

* * *

**Authors Note:**

Okay, I admit it, I'm nervous about this chapter ... it's not that kissing is totally out of character, but they haven't exactly given in to those urges in the past, no matter how 'hot' they got staring into each other's eyes! Mmm ... staring into each others eyes ... nice ... so anyway, opinions? I know this is more Booth's POV again with some Cam thrown in ... there will be more Bones POV soon!


	8. Psychotic Origins

**Chapter 8: Psychotic Origins**

"_The wounds of love can only be healed by the one who made them." Publilius Syrus_

Brennan arrived at the Jeffersonian before Booth, presumably because he'd needed to stop off at the FBI first. As she made her way to her office to drop off her personal belongings, Brennan acknowledged within herself that she was glad of the chance to start her work day on a steady footing, having slept poorly the night before. Truth be known, Temperance suspected their current case was affecting her on a personal level just as much as it was Booth, though she felt she was much better at hiding it. And although it would be easy to blame Doctor Sweets, to blame that conversation and the certainty of the conclusions he'd drawn about her, Brennan knew it was more than that.

Yes, it troubled her that the young psychologist had 'seen through her' to a certain extent. He'd rightly guessed that she was aware of her love for her partner – the greatest part of the perspective she'd gained during twelve months apart – but seemed to think it was something she should be embracing. Having accepted that knowledge about herself didn't change her position on her relationship with Booth – in fact it only cemented her viewpoint more strongly. Just as she freely acknowledged that she was the best in the world in the field of forensic anthropology Brennan was equally as logical and up front about her faults. She was a scientist with all that entailed. She didn't believe in the things that Booth believed in – mutually enduring love, a higher power to offer both a moral grounding and daily spiritual support. That, along with her reliance on reason and logic and her continuing difficulties in appropriately dealing with people made her ill qualified to be anything other than Booth's working partner. Romantic relationships based primarily on the physical were her natural limit and that just wasn't an option with Booth, not if she wanted to keep him in her life in some capacity. And she did want that ... she _needed_ that.

And yet Brennan felt as though something were looming in the shadows just waiting to pounce, something that would ruin her partnership with Booth in a manner they could never recover from. She saw it in him ... in what he said and didn't say, in the inconsistencies of his behaviour. On the one hand he insisted that true love existed, that two people could love each other for thirty or forty or fifty years. He hadn't said it in as many words but his desire to try a personal relationship with her and his argument when she'd said no suggested that he had believed he loved her like that. And yet he'd accepted her statement that she couldn't change, accepted her view of herself over his, and given her every impression that he'd put aside whatever it was he'd felt for her and moved on. She didn't understand how what he'd felt could be love as he described it if he could do that. In fact his behaviour since that night served to validate her own views on love over his. Not that she'd rejected his advances to test him ... it was merely something she'd observed since then.

One thing she was completely sure of was that it was _right_ that Booth move on ... Brennan truly wanted him to be happy above everything else, above her own happiness. And since she didn't believe that love could last forever all she had to do was wait out the necessary time until her own feelings faded as his had. Then their partnership could still continue when he eventually found someone else and got married as she knew he would.

That was the future though and Brennan was worried that getting there was going to put unnecessary strain on both of them. Something their current case was illustrating quite pointedly.

"Good morning."

Brennan turned from her internal contemplations to see her best friend standing in the doorway.

"Angela," she smiled. "Have the second set of remains arrived?"

"Just now," Angela replied. "Wendell's setting them up for your preliminary assessment." The artist hesitated before stepping forward. "You look tired Bren ... did you sleep at all last night?"

"I achieved sufficient hours of rest to be able to do my job properly," Brennan said defensively.

"That's not what I asked," Angela took her arm and urged her to sit down on the couch. "How are you holding up?" she asked gently.

"As well as I would for any case," Temperance insisted with a frown. "This is no different and in some respects is less troubling than other cases we've dealt with in the past."

"I saw you and Booth together yesterday Bren," Angela said gently. "He seemed tense. And don't get mad here, but so did you. What's really going on between the two of you?"

"Nothing!" Brennan returned irritably. "I don't understand why everyone is so worried that this case is going to have some kind of personal affect on either of us. Just because the victims were a couple intent on indulging in a hurried matrimonial commitment in front of strangers shouldn't make this any different than any other case."

"But it _is_ different Sweetie," Angela insisted. "Because no matter how much each of you deny it, you do have feelings for each other ... non-partnery feelings."

"Partnery isn't a word," Brennan pointed out academically.

"_Brennan_," Angela's tone was her classic 'cut the crap and face reality already' and even Temperance wasn't immune to it.

"Fine," she murmured. "I will admit to some concern over Booth's reactions during our discussions with the male victim's work colleagues yesterday. Although he's given every indication the past six months of participating in our partnership in the same vein as we have in the past, some of his statements suggest a level of avoidance ... of resentment that isn't consistent."

"You're worried about him." In her usual way Angela accurately cut through the outward verbal expression to what was driving Brennan. That ability impressed the anthropologist as much as it left her feeling inadequate – she found it difficult to read people at the best of time and every time she observed such easy skill in others it just reinforced her own limitations.

"We're partners," Brennan used logical to evade a real answer even though a part of her wanted her friends perspective. "Isn't it logical for me to show concern for Booth's mental well being?"

"Yes, but that's not why you're concerned." Angela stopped and looked at Brennan, patiently waiting for the real explanation.

"He said things about the past, about our first case together ... last night, after we'd left the Jeffersonian," Brennan admitted in a rush. "I was unable to refute his allegations."

"So what happened?" Angela asked curiously.

"Nothing – he retracted his statements and assured me that there was nothing for me to worry about." Brennan looked to her friend, hoping for some useful advice. "Do _you _think I should be worried about Booth?"

"Only if you're ready to really listen to what's driving him right now," Angela replied. "If you can't do that then it's probably best if you don't bring it up. If you want my advice I think you should talk to him about this."

"I ... we can't afford to ... it would be wrong of me to push him," Brennan struggled to organise her thoughts enough to respond. "My actions had an adverse affect on our partnership before we went our separate ways Angela. I don't have the right to question Booth now, not unless it directly impacts on the case. Now if you don't mind I'd like to begin work on these new remains." Getting up and grabbing her lab coat, Brennan shrugged it on, considering the conversation over.

"You can't keep pushing this aside – because unless something bizarre happens it will have to be you who makes the next move. I'm pretty sure Booth already made his – he won't go there again. Because that's the way it works sweetie."

Angela got the last word in. Brennan paused at the doorway, her back to her friend as those words hit home. She didn't have a response and so she didn't give one, choosing instead to focus on her work ... because that was something she _was_ good at.

* * *

The newly delivered combined skeletal remains were like a carbon copy of the first ... male victim enclosing the smaller female, their bones cleaned to a pristine white.

"The victims are a male, aged between thirty and thirty three; and a female, twenty five to twenty seven," Brennan spoke clinically into her recorder, circling the remains as she did her initial assessment. "Skull, chest, hands and feet of the inner subject appear to have been reconstructed inside the male's thoracic region utilising the same adhesive technique as that used on the prior victims. Preliminary assessment of bone weathering suggests extended exposure to the elements going back five to six years. No obvious cause of death present." Bones turned to where Wendell stood observing her. "Mr Bray, extract mitochondrial DNA from both victims and run it against the missing persons DNA project database – if the victim's families registered that will give us the fastest match. If that proves ineffective, remove the inner skull and request that Angela do a reconstruction on both victims before beginning the rest of the separation."

"Yes Ma'am," Wendell nodded, shifting away to locate the tools he'd need to comply with those instructions.

Temperance turned back to the bodies. It was consistent down to the last detail ... down to the same absence of usable evidence. From the crime scene photos she could see that the killer had chosen another idyllic setting, another 'stage' to display his work.

"He thinks he's doing these couples a favour."

"I'm sorry Doctor Brennan, did you say something?" Wendell's question brought her back to herself.

"No, sorry Mr Bray," Brennan smiled. "I was just ... talking to myself."

"First sign of madness you know."

Booth's way of announcing his arrival by just jumping into the conversation usually amused her. Today, with her earlier thoughts and events of the previous night still sharp in her memory, his presence hit her senses hard. She noticed anew the impressive breadth of his shoulders, his pleasing symmetry, the way his eyes focussed solely on her like there was nothing else he needed right then but her attention ...

"Bones!"

"_... because that's exactly what he wants – your attention ... your professional attention!_" she thought, annoyed with herself. "Sorry, you were saying?" she said weakly.

"I was saying that if you can leave the bone stuff for Wendell here to take care of we can go question the family of the first missing couple on our list."

"Yes, of course," Brennan nodded to Wendell. "Carry on Mr Bray."

Following Booth from the Jeffersonian she remained silent, letting him open her car door without protest and then sitting calmly inside.

"You okay?" Booth asked, shooting her a worried glance, "because if you're bothered about what happened last night, don't be. I was tired, you were tired ... it was a moment of competitive madness that won't happen again. Okay?"

"I'm fine Booth," she insisted. "_We're_ fine. Let's just talk to these people."

"Sure," Booth agreed lightly. "This is what we have on Steven Marshall and Jane Woods," he pulled out a piece of folded paper and handed it to her. "I think they'll turn out to be the victims at year zero."

"Disappeared February 13th 2005 from Las Vegas," Brennan read. "Woods' father filed the report two days later."

"Usually with serial killers the first victims have significance," Booth stated as he got them moving. "The rest of them will turn out to be choices not personally connected beyond what he sees them as representing, but these first victims ... something about them is the reason he's doing this."

"He knew them?" Brennan suggested uncertainly.

"I think so," Booth agreed. "We've got the last known address of Jane Woods' parents. With any luck they'll know enough to point us in the right direction."

* * *

They drove in silence for a while until Booth was pulling up outside another nondescript apartment building and they were walking inside.

"Frank Woods?" Booth asked of the man who opened the door.

"Yes," the man, tall, probably around sixty, looked at Booth warily.

"I'm FBI Special Agent Seeley Booth," Booth gestured to Brennan. "This is my partner, Doctor Temperance Brennan. Can we come in for a few minutes?"

"You found my daughter?" Frank didn't look hopeful as much as resigned, stepping aside to let them in. "My wife's in the kitchen," he said, leading them down the entrance hall. "Grace," he moved close to a woman, also around sixty, much shorter and with an air of fragility about her. "These people are from the FBI," he explained gently.

"Jane," her voice shook and she took a seat, dropping in a way that suggested she wouldn't have been able to continue standing without support. "You found Jane?"

"New evidence has come to light in the case of your daughter's disappearance," Booth explained, wishing he had better news, or any kind of news for them.

"So you haven't found Jane? Or Steven – is there news about Steven?" Grace reached out to hold her husband's hand.

"The remains of a male and female were discovered outside of Las Vegas early this morning but we have yet to make a positive identification," Brennan explained. "Early indications are that they've been out there for at least five years."

"So they _could_ be our Jane and Steven," Grace's eyes flooded with tears and she made a sound of distress that tugged at both their hearts.

"I'm sorry, but yes, they could," Booth said gently. "We have people working now to identify the victims but in the mean time it would help our investigation if we could ask you a few questions."

"We answered plenty of questions when our girl first disappeared," Frank said somewhat bitterly. "Where were you then?"

"This case only became an FBI matter when another set of remains was found on federal land," Booth explained.

"There are others," Grace looked horrified, "others like us, waiting for their children to come home. Only they don't," she swallowed back more tears, "they don't," she repeated in a voice thick with sadness and grief.

"Yes, it looks like your daughter's disappearance might be the first of several similar cases," Booth revealed. "Look, I understand your frustration but with cases like this the opportunity for a pattern to be discovered is unfortunately very rare."

"Thousands of people disappear every year," Brennan said simply, "and only a small percentage of them are the result of criminal intervention. In this case, without Agent Booth searching through hundreds of cases, without his instincts, the pattern here might never have been detected either."

"The missing persons reports were filed from around the country," Booth explained. "Finding similarities between suspected disappearances is the focus of our investigation at this time. Can you tell us about when Jane and Steven disappeared?"

"They went to Vegas," Frank shared a small smile with his wife. "Jane was trying to be secretive but we knew what they were up to – going there Valentine's weekend, the both of them giddy with excitement. They'd planned to elope."

"And that didn't bother you?" Brennan asked curiously.

"Because we weren't going to see our daughter get married?" Frank clarified.

"It has been my observation that most parents take great pride in events such as that," Brennan pointed out. "Anthropologically speaking the familial connection in marriage rituals has strong connections to the implied prestige bestowed depending upon the perceived merits of the chosen partner."

"I'm not sure what you just said but we would have taken pride in seeing Jane and Steven marry," Frank agreed. "But Jane was an interior decorator, struggling to get her own business off the ground. Steven was an architect, still trying to build up his reputation."

"They couldn't afford a wedding," Booth concluded.

"No," Frank agreed, "and Jane was too stubborn to let us help them. We were happy they wanted to get married, and hopeful they'd not put off starting a family, despite where they were at in their careers."

"So they went to Vegas, over Valentine's weekend," Booth got the story back on track.

"Yes," Frank returned. "Jane rang us the day before, raving about the hotel and the facilities and how special they were being treated."

"Where'd they stay?" Booth asked casually.

"Where was it again?" Frank turned to his wife to get the details.

"The Bellagio," Grace wiped at her eyes, trying to smile through her tears. "Jane knew someone who worked there – that got them a special deal."

"Would you remember the name of the person she knew at the hotel?" Booth zeroed in on that pertinent fact.

"Ah ... no, I'm not sure she ever mentioned it," Grace admitted. "Just that he was someone she knew from University."

"Where did your daughter study?" Brennan asked.

"At American University," Grace shared another one of those proud parent looks with her husband. "She graduated already full of plans for her business ... and then she was gone, before she could put most of them into practice."

"Did your daughter ever have any trouble with an ex boyfriend, or an admirer who maybe got a little too zealous in their attentions?" Booth shifted the conversation towards identifying possilbe suspects.

"She had boyfriends," Grace smiled. "Jane was very attractive but not stuck up about it. She was a friendly girl – made friends easily. Everybody liked her."

"What about that thing?" Frank looked at his wife, clearly struggling to come up with the details. "You know, that thing with that guy who kept sending her flowers?"

"Oh! Yes, there _was_ one admirer I guess you'd call him," Grace explained. "Ah ... Chris something. They went out a few times but then Jane met Steven and he was it for her. She let Chris down gently but it was difficult for her."

"Why was that?" Booth asked.

"She said he didn't take it well," Grace's face took on an expression that said she was struggling to remember the specifics. "It upset her too – he'd taken the whole thing much more seriously than Jane. He genuinely thought they'd be together forever. Jane cried to me about how horrible it was to hurt someone like that, to destroy that boy's life just because she couldn't feel the way he did."

"Suggesting a life could be destroyed through simple disappointment seems somewhat melodramatic," Brennan frowned. "Surely the perspective of distance and time would have shown the folly of such an attitude."

"They were young," Grace said it like that would be explanation enough. "Jane had never had to let someone down like that before ... she'd never seen a grown man cry – those were her words. At heart she was a sensitive girl, she didn't like disappointing people."

"Did this Chris try to change her mind?"

"For a while ... he sent her flowers, called her every now and then. Jane was always courteous and understanding. Eventually he seemed to get the message because he stopped calling."

"Did you ever see him around here? Did Jane ever mention seeing him after that?" Booth asked.

"No, in fact he dropped out of school not long after Jane broke it off with him," Grace shook her head. "Jane might have spoken to him but she never mentioned it. She and Steven were together for only a few months before their trip but I assumed she'd gotten over it. I'm sorry – we're not being very helpful here are we?"

"It's fine Mrs Woods, this is all useful information," Booth countered. "You've given us leads we can follow up on."

"Are you saying that an ex boyfriend of Jane's could be responsible for her disappearance?" Frank demanded.

"I'm not saying anything of the sort," Booth looked at the older man intently. "It's a line of questioning we can pursue that might lead us to the person or persons responsible for the disappearance of your daughter and her fiancé."

Brennan's phone rang and she excused herself to answer it. Booth was only peripherally aware of her speaking in a low tone, but he noticed immediately the way her eyes shot to Frank and Grace before she looked at him, her expression troubled.

"Mr and Mrs Woods, that was my team at the Jeffersonian," she said earnestly after hanging up. "You gave DNA samples for the missing persons DNA project five years ago."

"We wanted to make sure that if Jane was found we'd be notified immediately," Frank explained. He looked at Brennan and Booth could see the knowledge dawning. "It's them, those ... the people you found? It's Jane and Steven?"

"We ran a mitochondrial DNA sample from the bones of our victims against the DNA database. Your samples match the female victim. We still need to confirm the second victim is Steven Marshall."

"Oh God," Grace started crying again, her tears tearing at Booth's heart. "Frank ... our baby."

"I know honey, I know," Frank sat beside his wife, bowing his head over hers.

"We're very sorry for your loss," Booth said the words that never felt anywhere near adequate.

"We'll find who did this," Brennan added that promise. "We'll see that your daughter gets justice."

"It won't bring her back," Frank looked up, meeting Booth's eyes directly. "Unless you have further questions ...," he didn't demand they get out but the inference was clear.

"Of course," Booth put a hand to Brennan's shoulder, urging her forward. "Let's go Bones," he said. "We'll keep you informed on progress with the case," he added.

The last view Brennan and Booth had before they left that apartment was of another set of lives shattered by news they'd delivered. That never got any easier ... and it never should.

* * *

They spoke to the parents of Steven Marshal soon after but didn't get anything new. Booth insisted they go back to his office at the FBI where they conducted a series of telephone interviews collecting basic details for each of couples his instincts said were connected.

"They all stayed at the Bellagio over Valentine's," Brennan said once the last interview was done.

"Yeah, the same place this friend of our first victim worked," Booth added. "That's a coincidence that doesn't gel for me. What do you bet that this same friend turns out to be Chris, Jane Woods' overzealous admirer? He couldn't stand it that she chose someone else so he killed them both, sent her a clear message in the process. 'You wanted to be with this guy forever? Well here you go'. But then something got twisted up in his head after the first one – he romanticised what he did, maybe so he could live with the fact that he'd killed the woman he loved. Now it's not about revenge, it's about doing other guys a favour _before _their weaker female half can dump them like he got dumped. He chooses a new version of himself and Jane every year, lures the lucky couple away somehow and then kills them."

"We still don't have much to go on Booth," Brennan pointed out worriedly, not discounting that his sequence of events could be correct. "The first set of skeletons hasn't given us anything other than more unanswered questions. Maybe we'll get more from the older set of remains but ..."

"But you're worried we won't," Booth finished for her.

"He was unusually thorough."

"Well, then we'll just have to find our own edge," Booth said purposefully.

* * *

Bones left Booth's office at the FBI to return to the Jeffersonian while he compiled a summary of what they'd found so far for his report to Assistant Director Hacker.

"He's connected to the first victims Sir, and to the Bellagio," Booth finished after filling his boss in on the details. "And if we don't move fast enough he's going to add another couple to his tally."

"Then you know what you have to do," Andrew smiled when Booth stared back at him, shifting uncomfortably.

"Yes Sir," Seeley swallowed back the protest, nodded and then turned to leave. It was time to talk to Bones.

* * *

"How do you feel about going undercover?" Booth walked into Bones' office an hour or so later and threw himself down on the couch, shooting his partner a sideways look.

"That depends," Brennan smiled. "What are we going undercover as?"

Booth had practiced this in his head the whole way over from the Hoover building, how to present it without being awkward or uncomfortable or in any way suggesting to Bones that he was bothered by the prospect. "Think you can put aside your scathing opinion of elopers for long enough to get us inside some of these events Chloe Carpenter mentioned?"

"You want us to pose as a couple intent on getting married," Brennan paraphrased, getting up from her desk and moving to sit beside him.

"He's already looking for his next victims," Booth said grimly. "It's only a few days until Valentine's Day. Charlie rang the Bellagio and found out their special events start tomorrow. So what do you say we pack the party clothes, put on our soppy faces, and go catch ourselves a killer?"

"Soppy faces?" Brennan queried, for once resisting the urge to lecture him on his choice of words.

"Yeah, you know," Booth grinned. "Just imagine how a couple who are so eager to get married they have to run away and elope look at each other – _that's_ a soppy face."

"We'd have to pretend to be a couple outwardly in love."

Brennan's voice was kind of flat and Booth just stopped himself from wincing visibly. He knew she was about to launch into a speech about love and the need to declare it through marriage being a delusional fantasy people like him clung to in a need to pretend the future wasn't uncertain and he just wasn't in the mood for it. "All we've got is a first name Bones – one he'd be stupid to continue going by. You heard Chloe Carpenter – this is the only way we're going to get on the inside without risking alerting the killer that we're on to him. It's not about what you believe Bones," he said quietly. "It's about what we can make the people around us believe. And hey, it's not like we haven't done pretty much the same thing before – unless you're saying you're not as good an actress as you were five years ago?"

"If you can do it then I certainly can," Brennan's competitive streak shone through. He couldn't help smiling over how easily he'd gotten her agreement, and her eyes narrowed. "Oh, I see – you were challenging me deliberately to illicit the desired response."

"It worked, didn't it?" Booth raised his brows expectantly.

"It worked," Brennan said with a small smile.

"All right," Booth jumped up, and reached down a hand to her, pulling her up to stand beside him. "Let's get this show on the road then."

"Wait a minute Booth," Brennan protested as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and urged her forward as though he intended to escort her straight from the office and onto a waiting plane.

"What?"

"I have to tell Cam and Angela," Brennan insisted. "Plus Mr Bray and Doctor Hodgins are still working on identifying cause of death for both sets of victims. Besides, isn't it too late to get to our destination today?"

"I've already booked the last flight going out which we'll make if we get a move on. As for the remains, the squints can do all of that without you," Booth shot back. "Do you really want to tell them exactly what we're going to be doing in Vegas?"

They exchanged silent glances for a few moments, each thinking about the sideways looks and teasing comments they'd open themselves up for, and then gave each other matching smiles.

"You're right," Brennan agreed. "Let's just go."

"That's the ticket," Booth urged her forward again, intent on getting out of there before she changed her mind.

* * *

"What names did you give us?" Brennan asked. They were sitting together on the plane, a few minutes out from Las Vegas airport. "Not Tony and Roxanne again I hope."

"What? Why? I'm kind of fond of Roxie myself," Booth smiled wickedly, thinking back to that little black dress Bones had worn and the way she'd sexily draped herself against him.

"Yes, but Roxie was brash and obvious," Brennan explained. "She was more interested in excitement than she was in romance. Tony would have never gotten her to agree to anything more than an informal engagement. If we're going to be convincing then we need a different approach."

"Joseph Parker and Lillian Ross," Seeley revealed. "She's a teacher and he's in construction."

"How did they meet?" Bones asked.

"Ah ... he was called in to do some work at her school," Booth decided. "He interrupted a class and it was love at first sight for both of them. Okay?"

"That sounds like a reasonable beginning," Brennan nodded. He was glad that she didn't point out how closely his description mirrored their own first meeting, apart from the love part of course. "Wait, how long have they been dating?"

"Three months," Booth grinned. "They can't wait another day to make it official. Think you can pull that off?"

"I'm sure you'll correct me if I stray from being convincing in the part," Bones pointed out.

"You'll do fine," Booth was sure of it. Whether he could say the same for himself was another matter. Not that he couldn't be convincing when forced into the role of being 'in love' with Bones – it wasn't like he'd even have to act. And that was the problem – he was more worried that he'd be _too_ convincing and blow their easy peace out the window.

* * *

_It was almost time ... within days he would choose his next subjects ... lovers, partners, true friends. He had no doubt he'd find them – he always did. Every year they came to him, came to show him what they wanted. To be together, forever. To be what only he could make them._

_He was ready ... and it was almost time._

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Authors Note:

You guys are super clever or else I'm very predictable because I was amazed at how closely some of your comments lined up with events/dialogue in this chapter - as you can now plainly see! Clever is good ... not so sure about predictable! I'll take the opportunity here to thank the people who review that I can't reply to - your comments are very much appreciated too .

So, undercover ... in Vegas ... again ... is that too much?

Thanks for reading!


	9. Undercover

**Authors Note:**

Just a little warning that the last scene in this chapter is probably getting close to an M rating - if you're not old enough you should probably not read that part (it'll be obvious which bit I mean). Otherwise, on with the story!

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Chapter 9: Undercover

"_Marriage is not a noun; it's a verb. It isn't something you get. It's something you do. It's the way you love your partner every day." Barbara De Angelis_

Back at the Jeffersonian Wendell Bray had completed his detailed examination of the second set of newly separated skeletons, and apart from a very small indentation on the anterior surface of the right fourth thoracic rib of the male he'd found nothing noteworthy. There was a similar marking on the female but on the posterior left third thoracic. Wendell had tried to match the markings to a weapon but hadn't come up with anything so far.

"How's it going?" Angela asked from the doorway of the lab.

"Not great," Wendell admitted. "I mean, I know I don't have anywhere near the experience of Doctor Brennan but I've never seen skeletal remains as clean as these – not that we didn't clean ourselves. They've each got the usual life history – broken bones as a child, basic wear and tear, but there's just nothing here to point to cause of death."

"What _do_ you have?" Angela stepped forward, her eyes drawn to the collection of skeletons side by side on separate tables. It had saddened her to see each of the two sets of bones contorted into those twisted images of one body but she was equally saddened now they'd been separated – which was fanciful and not helpful to their current situation.

"Here," Wendell zoomed in on the male, highlighting the indentation he'd found. "It's not much, but the UV light source showed faint traces of bone bruising suggesting this dates to close to time of death." Switching images, Wendell showed Angela the female version. "Similar marking, same bone bruising. I'm pretty sure whatever this is, it's part of what killed them, but there's not enough here to say more than that."

Angela's eyes narrowed as she considered the evidence and the possibilities that emerged. "Come with me," she turned and headed for her own office with Wendell trailing behind. "Okay, let's add those images to my scans," she pressed a few buttons on her data pad, "and then see where that puts us."

In the square space of her holographic display particles of light circled and then slowly formed into two skeletons, side by side.

"This is how the bones were arranged when they were brought in," Angela pressed more buttons and the images shifted into the familiar entwined skeletal remains. "Your marks are here," she pointed out two circled spots that didn't line up, "but if we extrapolate for what we know of their height and general physique to add the flesh and then match the two marks together," she added that data and ran another simulation.

The image morphed again, this time settling into two fully formed human shapes. The man was on the bottom, the woman lying chest to chest on top of him. In that configuration the marks Wendell had found lined up precisely.

"He killed them with one strike," Wendell realised, "at the same time?"

"Looks like it," Angela agreed. She zoomed in on that spot, isolating just those parts of the underlying x-rayed images until she could produce a close up of the combined marks. "Your weapon is probably a blade, very narrow and thin. Does that help?"

"That's great Angela – thank you," Wendell said gratefully.

"You're welcome," Angela smiled. "Tell Brennan I said hi when you talk to her."

Wendell nodded before rushing off - probably to consult with Jack on possible weapons. Angela smiled again and then turned her attention back to the image still displayed holographically.

"At least you were together," she said quietly. "I wonder, was that a blessing or a curse?" Shaking off the morbid mood, she glanced at her watch and decided it was past time to drag her husband away for a break. Murder weapons could wait.

* * *

"Parker and Ross, checking in," Booth announced with a charming smile directed down at Brennan. They were at the front desk in the busy foyer of the Bellagio and he had his arm around Brennan is a manner that suggested he couldn't bear to be separated from her for even a second.

"We're very much in love," Temperance announced loudly, giving Booth a wide smile meant to outwardly convey how infatuated she was with him. She leaned into him, admitting if only to herself how much she enjoyed his warmth and his strength, even more because it was backed up by a good heart. It surprised even her how easy she found it to take on a role so different from her day to day self. It was exciting and even somewhat inspiring to act the part of a woman capable of the shared feeling their current pretence suggested. They hadn't discussed how they'd create the required impression but Brennan trusted Booth implicitly and was fully prepared to follow his lead in this case, where his 'qualifications' so clearly outweighed hers.

"He knows - it's kind of implied Honey," Booth pulled her into his side sharply, giving her a meaningful look that said 'tone it down'. Brennan frowned, not understanding – wasn't their purpose to make it clear to anyone who might be observing them that they were in fact lovers, thereby gaining entrance into the same events the victims had attended?

"I was just -," she began to explain her understanding of their mission but was forced to stop speaking when Booth kissed her. He'd probably meant to go for a quick peck to convince their audience of their respective roles but as soon as his lips touched hers the spark that had always existed between them fused their lips together in an outward display of real emotion. Following so soon on the heels of that weird scene they'd shared in her apartment it was clearly fuelled by more than the need to be a convincing couple. She'd never had a problem with the dormant sexual attraction that existed between them but they'd never had to use it in a case before ... and if there was anything her partner would gripe about later it would be that.

Booth was the one to snap back to reality first. He had already pulled away and turned back to the desk clerk by the time Brennan realised what had happened and she could only be grateful he hadn't noticed the way kissing him affected her.

"So, about that check-in," Brennan watched incredulously as Booth shared a purely male to male look with the young clerk. Was he trying to create the impression that they couldn't wait to get to their room so that they could engage in intercourse?

"Oh, the Valentine Special!" The clerk smiled at them enthusiastically after tapping Booth's fake names into the hotel reservations system. "There's a reception already in progress in the main dining room to welcome our weekend soon to be newlyweds - you're welcome to join in as soon as you've settled in. Will you be going for a private ceremony or signing up for the combined event?"

"Ah ... we hadn't decided," Booth smiled charmingly, looking down at Brennan. "What do you think Baby?"

"_I think that endearment is demeaning and de-individualising_," Brennan thought, smiling back at him. "I'd want to meet the others who'll be in the combined ceremony before making a decision," she said earnestly. "These people are going to be in our wedding photos darling – don't we want to make sure we're going to enjoy looking at them for the next thirty or forty years?" Secretly she wondered why anyone would want to subject themselves to being one in a large line up of couples all getting married together. She imagined it would be not unlike a congo line doing the limbo or a conveyer belt churning out identically manufactured items for mass consumption. But then, she didn't really get why people needed to get married at all – perhaps she would better understand the allure of a group ceremony if she did.

"Understandable," the clerk nodded approvingly. "If you attend the information session tomorrow morning you'll be able to meet all the other couples. You can make your decision after that."

"Thank you," Brennan smiled again, deciding that if she looked happy all the time then surely anyone would believe that she was just like all the other women - there to capture 'love' presumably before it could escape.

"Here are your room keys," the clerk handed them two magnetic strip cards. "I'll have one of the bellboys bring your bags and escort you up. Welcome to the Bellagio – we hope your stay here is everything you dreamt it would be."

"I'm sure it will be," Booth took both keys, gave the man an exaggerated wink and then moved to lead Brennan away.

Both of them were quiet as they followed the bellboy into the lifts and then back out again on the seventh floor. Booth kept his arm around her the whole time and Brennan reciprocated by placing her corresponding arm around his waist. As they walked down the corridor like that Brennan wondered that their posture didn't feel awkward at all. Anyone observing them was sure to believe they'd been walking with those complementary body positions for a long time.

"Your room, Sir, Ma'am," the bellboy announced, placing their bags in the centre of the lounge area.

"Thanks," Booth slipped the man a folded bill, pulling Brennan into his arms and kissing her again before the hotel employee had gotten halfway to the door. As soon as he heard the door click closed he stepped back hurriedly. "I'm sorry Bones – our killer could be watching from anywhere inside the hotel. I had to create an impression, you know?"

"You wanted to make us potential candidates for the assailant?" Brennan frowned in confusion.

"No! God no!" Booth denied emphatically. "I was just thinking that if we create the right first impressions with everyone the rest will be easy. They'll treat us like the infatuated couple they think we are. We just need the occasional hug or hand hold from now on to make that stick."

"I don't mind Booth," Brennan said easily, even though she wasn't sure that was entirely true. Yes, being undercover was exciting and intriguing but she realised as she stood in the centre of their room that it could also be confronting too. Most of the time she didn't actively think about the feelings she had for Booth but in sharing their current pretence she knew that would be difficult and found that already a part of her wished it could be reality. If she wasn't who she was and if Seeley wasn't the sensitive, deeply caring man she knew him to be.

"We'll keep it to a minimum," Booth promised. She watched as he walked the room, checking out the facilities before moving to stand in front of the window.

"Are you worried someone might recognise us?" Brennan asked, sensing that something was troubling him.

"What, as Tony and Roxie?" Booth queried. When she nodded he laughed. "Nah, they moved in completely different circles than Joe and Lillian will. They're not here for the casinos – they're here for the _romance_. Besides, they look nothing alike."

"They're both us," Brennan pointed out logically.

"To _you_. To everyone else they're two different couples. Someone who met Roxie might think you look vaguely familiar but that's it. It was years ago anyway and what was memorable to us isn't gonna be for anyone we might run into now."

"Oh," Temperance could see his point. "Cognitively speaking events do need to have specific and significant relevance to be retained in long term memory." She could have said more on the subject but had learned over the years to stop her explanations before she herself would have been satisfied with the level of information delivered. "Well if it's not that, what's worrying you?"

"What, besides the fact that I'm parading you in front of a psychotic killer smart enough to have hidden his victims for years _and_ keep a whole team of squints guessing?" Booth questioned impatiently. Brennan said nothing, just watched as he reined it all in with a sigh. "I'm sorry," he apologised immediately. "I guess this case is still bothering me a little – and if you tell Sweets I said that I'll deny it to the end."

"I would never dream of telling Doctor Sweets anything you said in confidence," Brennan said indignantly.

"I was just joking Bones," Booth smiled in that way of his, trying to charm her annoyance away. "Look, let's head downstairs again, check out this reception thing. We can grab a late dinner and start talking to people – see if we can find out anything about couples who check in and then don't check out."

"Isn't it going to be difficult to question the staff, given our current charade?"

"We'll have to get creative," Booth dismissed her concerns. "Let's go."

"Shouldn't we delay until sufficient time has passed for us to have engaged in intercourse?" Brennan asked curiously.

"I'm sorry, what?" Booth looked taken aback ... and embarrassed if the slight increase in colour on his face was any indicator.

"Wasn't that the impression you wished to create with the gentleman at the front desk?"

"Ah, yeah, I suppose so," Booth admitted, rubbing the back of his neck and looking anywhere but directly at her.

"Then I suggest we delay our return until such time as we could have reasonably engaged in -,"

"I get it Bones," Booth interrupted.

"We should both change our attire as well," Brennan looked at him thoughtfully. "You could take a shower – that would serve to advertise our implied activities should anyone be paying undue attention."

Booth muttered something under his breath but then put on a smile that seemed forced to Brennan. "Sure, good idea. I'll just ...," he waved vaguely in the direction of the bathroom, grabbed his bag and then hurried away.

Temperance moved to her own suitcase, quickly changing her trousers and shirt for a simple skirt and wrap around floral blouse more suited to dining in the luxurious hotel. She'd just finished renewing her makeup when Booth's cell phone rang. Glancing at the still closed bathroom door, Brennan decided he'd rather she answer it than interrupt him.

"Special Agent Seeley Booth's phone, Doctor Temperance Brennan speaking."

"Doctor Brennan – this is Agent Burns, ah Charlie Burns. Is Agent Booth around?"

"He's taking a shower," Brennan would have been amused had she been able to see the expression on Charlie's face as she shared Booth's location without a hint of embarrassment. "Perhaps I could be of assistance?"

"Ah ... I just wanted to let him know that I've checked into the student lists at American University around the time that Jane Woods was a student there," Charlie began. "I'm sending him the details on all the students with Chris or Christopher in first, middle or last names. It's a big list and it can't include nicknames obviously so it's probably not that useful. According to their records none of the Bellagio's current employees attended American University so in all likelihood it's another dead end."

"Thank you Agent Burns, I'll be sure to let Booth know." Temperance hung up the phone and returned it to Booth's jacket pocket.

Booth emerged from the bathroom moments later, dressed in his usual casual attire of cargo pants and t-shirt with an open short sleeved shirt over the top, his hair damp.

"Agent Burns rang," Brennan launched into speech – something about the intimacy of the situation striking her suddenly. "Their records show that none of the hotel's current employees attended American University."

"Damn it, I knew it wouldn't be that simple!" Booth grimaced. "Did he find out anything useful?"

"No," Brennan replied. "He _is_ sending you a list of students who might turn out to be Jane Woods' admirer but indicated it was long and probably not useful for our current purpose."

"Which means we keep doing what we're doing. So ... you ready?" Booth ran a quick eye over her, and nodded. "Let's go," he said, motioning for her to lead the way, his hand resting on the small of her back.

* * *

"Smile _Honey_," Booth said close to Brennan's ear, once again with his arm around his partner's shoulders. They were making the rounds of the Bellagio's function room where an impromptu post welcome reception gathering of the Valentine's Day wedding crowd had evolved. There were more than fifty couples present and some of them were so into the whole 'romance' thing that even Booth was starting to question their sanity.

"I _am_," Brennan insisted stubbornly. Booth wouldn't be surprised to find out she'd been too busy considering the anthropological ramifications of what she was witnessing to remember to smile all the time. Turning, her eyes met his and he realised all at once just how close they were standing.

Booth lost his train of thought for a moment, caught up in the blue of her eyes and the faint pupil dilation he could see occurring even as he stared at her. The fact that he was _allowed_ to touch her ... to kiss her ... had opened a door he couldn't help but think about stepping through ... and he'd been thinking about it pretty much every minute since they'd first checked in. He let his eyes drift to her lips and then leaned forward slightly.

"Here's a couple who don't need any help creating a romantic picture," the voice of a stranger was a rude awakening but a welcome one. Booth looked at Bones, this time with a question in his eyes she answered with a faint nod, her permission for him to complete that lean until his lips touched hers. He kept it light and brief and then turned to smile at the person who'd interrupted them.

"Joseph Parker," he introduced himself, "and this is my beautiful, and obviously irresistible, fiancée Lillian Ross." He hugged Bones close to his side, smiling down at her proudly before turning his attention back to their audience.

"Nigel Haversham," the man reciprocated with a faint British accent to go along with the name, "Hotel special events coordinator. Even if we weren't amidst our present company I wouldn't need to ask you why you're at the hotel this weekend."

"You must be used to seeing many couples engaged in intimate discourse," Brennan commented.

"I wouldn't have described it like that," Nigel said with a chuckle, "but otherwise yes, that's a pretty accurate assessment. Between you and me though, you get your posers, the ones more in love with the idea of running off to Vegas to get married than they are with their chosen partner. And then you get the couples like yourselves – the ones who are here because they _need _to be together in every sense of the word. Marriage is just the final step – an important one of course, but they'd be just as together without it."

"Interesting," Booth smiled. "What's the ratio like for that?"

"Oh, on a normal weekend it would be fifty, fifty," Nigel shared. "Too much alcohol, a lucky streak at the casinos – you always get the spur of the moment people who wake up the next morning wondering what the hell they were thinking."

"What about this weekend in particular?" Booth persisted. Not wanting to get the guys radar up he pressed his cheek to Brennan's, shifting enough to kiss her temple before straightening again. "We think what we have is pretty unique, you know?"

"And I'm sure it is," Nigel agreed diplomatically. "Valentine's Day brings the 'in love with love' crowd out of the woodwork. I've been organising this event for a few years and can tell you with some confidence that you're in the minority this weekend, I'm afraid."

"How many people change their minds?" Brennan asked in that direct way of hers.

"Honey, please tell me you're not having second thoughts," Booth joked, not missing the way Nigel's gaze sharpened a little.

"Of course not," Bones smiled but it wasn't awkward or nervous – no, she hit him with a sultry, 'meaningful' smile that hinted at knowledge of the power she had over her man, and the clear intention to use it at the first opportunity. He felt the flush rising to his face and it wasn't all embarrassment – Temperance Brennan had a seductiveness that was hot – really hot – and he'd never been able to avoid reacting in some way when she displayed that side of herself. Being required to react was a unique torture he hadn't anticipated when he'd first realised they've have to go undercover.

Realising he'd been staring at her for too long, enough that Nigel Haversham was back to wearing that indulgently amused smile, Booth swallowed and quickly regrouped. "Then what -,"

"Joe and I are thinking about being a part of the combined ceremony," Bones explained directly to Nigel. "Initially we were thinking it would make the event that much more romantic and memorable if we were surrounded by other couples as equally in love as we are."

"_Nice save there Bones_," Booth thought, giving her an approving squeeze.

"But my assessment of the motivations of most of the people here has you doubting that course of action," Nigel concluded. "Then I apologise if my words have upset you Ms Ross. We _do _get drop outs – people who go as far as booking themselves in for the ceremony and paying all the fees who simply don't show up on the day. Usually there are at least a handful of couples every Valentine's Day weekend who fall into that category." He chuckled. "I often imagine them slinking guiltily out of the hotel in the early hours of the morning reluctant to face the music. If you're particularly worried about it I'd suggest you stick with the private ceremony. I can have our wedding advisors meet with you first thing tomorrow morning – they can discuss your options, help you fill in all the paperwork, and arrange all your bookings."

"That's very kind of you," Booth held out a hand and Nigel shook it vigorously.

"I'll arrange it then," Nigel smiled. "Ms Ross. Mr Parker. I don't think I even need to wish you well – I'm sure this weekend will turn out to be the most memorable one of your lives so far."

Booth and Brennan smiled back and then watched as the man took his leave, zeroing in on another couple to meet and greet.

"He probably says the same thing to everyone," Booth commented casually, uncomfortable with their success at fooling a man who'd been in the business long enough to presumably be a pretty good judge of relationship 'character'.

"Really?" Brennan queried. "I thought him to be quite sincere."

"It's all part of the business Bones," Booth urged her to walk with him, his eyes continually observing everything going on around them. "It's interesting what he said about the dropout rate though. If that's true then one specific couple disappearing each year wouldn't even raise the alarms, not with the hotel anyway. I'll get Charlie to find out about the dropouts the past six years – maybe someone at the hotel remembers at least one of our couples."

"So you don't think Mr Haversham is personally involved?"

"He'd have the access," Booth agreed, turning his attention back to where Haversham was currently talking with another couple of eager to be newlyweds. "But no, I don't think he's our guy. Too old and a little too openly cynical about his clientele. I'll have Charlie run him anyway but we keep looking."

"Perhaps the person we're seeking isn't directly connected to the wedding side of the hotel," Brennan suggested, smiling and nodding as they passed a couple intent on devouring each other in a heated kiss.

"Maybe, but I'm thinking not," Booth kept his eyes on Bones rather than on the kissing couple. "He needs to observe his candidates first, make sure they're worthy. For that he needs to be in the thick of it, to filter out the pretenders from the real deal."

"Then we should follow through on meeting the hotel's wedding advisors tomorrow," Brennan concluded. "They'd be in a unique position to observe and assess many of the couples attending this weekend."

"True," Booth nodded. "We'll play along until something pops."

* * *

_They were perfect ... so obviously in love although outwardly they held themselves in check much more than most of the couples present. He could see it – the way the man would do anything for the woman, would die for her if called upon to do so. The man was easy to read ... real emotion there every time he looked into her eyes._

_She was harder to read but no less real ... he sensed that she'd understand his mission better than any others he'd chosen because the fear of separation was real to her, enough that it held her back from truly throwing herself into the thick of love. But he knew, were it necessary, she too would give her life to save her partner's._

_They were perfect ... the pinnacle of eight years of effort. Since there was a chance that they would be his last, the fact that they were who they were only made it more satisfying. He would do for the man what the man could not do for himself - guarantee that his love would never leave him. _

_In them, Chris would truly create forever._

* * *

As the evening wore on and they mingled with both staff and patrons Booth found his attention split between the job at hand and the inevitable need to retire for the night. They hadn't discussed specifically what they'd do to create the right impression – past experience had shown Seeley that Bones was adaptive and very enthusiastic in playing a role outside her usual area of expertise. _Too _enthusiastic sometimes – something he realised suddenly that he'd never contemplated the reason for. But, no matter the source of her bravado, Booth was sure he'd be the one embarrassed and uncomfortable with their charade long before he succeeded in embarrassing Bones.

Eventually the crowd began to disband. Being the last couple there would draw too much attention to them so Booth gathered Bones into his side, leaning close to her ear to speak privately.

"I'm not getting any nibbles here," he whispered, his breath stirring the hair near her temple. "You?"

"If you are referring to new leads in the case then I too have been unable to determine anything of relevance to the investigation," Brennan spoke in a low tone without looking at him directly. "We have met with many staff members actively involved with the weekend's frivolities but none seem outwardly suspicious. I believe we should retire to compare our impressions. You have my permission to do what you think necessary to ensure our leave taking is consistent with the personna of Joe and Lillian."

"Ah ... right," Booth smiled a little nervously at her usual forthright manner.

So ... he had permission to what? Drink in the scent at her neck that lured him in every time he got too close? Shifting his head slightly he took a deep breath ... yeah, Bones's usual perfume combined with the unique elements that were only her - sharp, non nonsence, purposeful, like grass after it had been cut or a garden bed after a good rain - impossible to describe it any other way. He felt her shiver slightly and his formerly nervous smile was replaced with something a little more ... wolfish. They might be pretending but she'd definitely liked that.

Scents, no matter how captivating, wouldn't create the desired image. No, for that he needed contact ... skin to skin, 'I've already touched every inch of you', contact. Booth turned his head until his lips just touched the column of her neck. And then he skimmed, tiny, barely there kisses from just under her jaw down until the edge of her blouse ended his easy access. She responded by leaning her head until it rested against his, her body shifting and turning enough to compliment his posture. She shivered again and he knew if he could see her face that she'd be smiling too. That was probably the point at which he forgot that he was trying to create an impression and just went for creating reality. Starting with an open mouthed kiss that sucked at the heat of her neck he followed quickly by shifting her until she stood fully inside his embrace. Their eyes met and there was no hesitation, no pause to give potential interruptions a chance to intrude. His lips were on hers and she was kissing him back and neither of them was pretending this was anything other than a full out expression of mutual sexual attraction.

Breaking away literally felt like he was tearing his lips from hers ... not because he wanted to stop because he _so _didn't. If he could continue kissing Temperance Brennan for the foreseeable future he'd die a happy man. No, the small part of him that was still thinking logically had put a big tick in the box on that message they'd wanted to send out. They were a couple hot for each other as much as they were hot to tie the knot. Mission accomplished - time to depart before he embarrassed himself.

Without a word to anyone around them, Booth grabbed Bones's hand and literally manpowered her out of the large function room. He kept it at that hurried pace the whole way across the lobby and into the lifts. Once inside he couldn't let the pretense drop - the cat was well and truly out of the bag and seemed intent on taking them both for a ride before being forced back inside. Pressing Bones up against the back wall of the lift Seeley leaned down enough to take her lips in a heated kiss.

"What floor Sir?"

Booth froze ... right, the elevator attendant. Should have remembered that.

"Seven," Bones sounded breathless and sexy as hell, and Booth couldn't resist going back to find out what that tasted like. Hot ... she was so hot ... he was in so much trouble here. The lift ride passed in a blur and he didn't even care that the attendant was holding in a smirk as he respectfully informed them that they'd arrived.

Bones laughed, grabbing his hand and dragging him from the lift. She was the one who opened their door, who urged him inside. And she was the one who threw herself at him the instance the door was closed, her lips on his, the smile still on both their faces. They kissed their way across the room until the backs of her legs hit the bed and she fell backwards, taking him with her. She shifted under him, wriggling to align their bodies is a manner no one would have misunderstood.

He knew, somewhere in the recesses of his overheated mind, that he should stop. He hadn't lost himself in his desire for her yet, hadn't kissed her with the serious intent to devour her that had plagued him for years. It was still light, still more fun than an expression of real emotion. They were still at the point where he could write it off as the both of them getting a little too carried away with playing their parts. But if he let it go further, if he actually let himself take what she was so clearly offering him - if he took it up a few notches - then there'd be no going back.

So yeah, he had to stop ... in a bit. He just needed to kiss her a few more times first, needed a few more moments to feel how incredibly well her soft curves matched the hard planes of his body. He shifted in a very obvious parody of the more intimate movements certain parts of his body craved and she moaned ... it was loud, needy and passionate and unfortunately like a bucket of cold water in his face.

"Wait," he broke away, breathing hard.

"What's wrong?" Bones's eyes glittered up at him, her expression hard to read beyond confusion and the desire to get back to what they'd been so actively doing moments before.

"I think we're getting a little too caught up in our roles here Bones," he said, rolling off her until he was lying beside her, his eyes on the ceiling above the bed. He hated to say it but he couldn't assume it was anything more ... not given past conversations about their relationship and the topic of sex itself. She knew he didn't do the whole satisfying of bodily urges thing - it had to have more meaning for him even if it wasn't a forever after deal. The only thing he could conclude was that the Natasha/Roxie 'a little out of control' side of her had taken over - that she'd regret this as much as he would if he let it go any further.

"You're saying that was all just Joe and Lillian?" Bones asked, her face carefully blank. "That there was nothing of Booth and Brennan driving you? Because I ... I can't ... I don't want to lie and tell you it wasn't me, Temperance Brennan, too. I can't say that Booth even though I don't know what it really means in the broader context of our partnership."

Seeley turned on his side so that he could look at her, feeling like reality had been suspended for a moment in time where Bones might actually be trying to tell him something important. "Are you saying you've changed your mind about love and marriage and happily ever after?"

"There is evidence to suggest that those concepts have real applications for some individuals," Bones replied uncertainly.

"_No_, not for 'some individals' Bones," Booth sat up abruptly, swivelling to look down at her. "_You_. Do. You. Believe. In those things?" Her eyes swam with sudden tears and the expression of torment on her face was the only answer he got. "I didn't think so," Booth said sadly. Levering himself off the bed he stood for a moment, needing to get his bearings. "Right," he muttered, thoughts swirling as he kept his back to her. He wanted to blame her for the surge of unwarranted but still very real and crushing disappointment he felt but couldn't - _he'd _instigated that scene, _he'd _taken it too far. All Bones had done was respond honestly, doing whatever was necessary not to blow their cover.

"_Booth_," her pleading tone had him looking at her despite his desire to just cut and run. "I want to believe ... I _do _... I just ...," she trailed off, wiping the tears from her cheeks, clearly counting on him to fill in the blanks for her.

"That's something I guess," he sighed, moving to sit back on the edge of the bed. "Don't worry about it Bones ... I get it okay. We're not here for this and it's wrong for us to even be talking about it now. Let's just keep it to the case, okay." He clasped her hand, squeezing reassuringly before getting up again and heading for the door.

"Where are you going?"

"Downstairs," Booth answered. "It really is fine Bones ... I just, I need a few minutes okay. Listen, you take the bed, get some rest. I'll be back later."

Not waiting for a response he quickly exited the room and took the stairs down to the first floor where the bar was located. He'd have a drink, shove the genii back in the bottle, and hopefully not get back to their room until after Bones was asleep. They still had a job to do and he couldn't let personal feelings, no matter how screwed up they were getting, intrude on that.

**Authors Note:**

Another quick thank you to all those reviewers I can't reply directly to ... your comments had me smiling this morning and feeling all good about this story. On the getting way too into the undercover deal I was thinking about those two episodes - the circus one and the Vegas one - Bones in particular really did seem to get very into her role, enough hopefully to make the last scene in this chapter plausible. They are totally messing with each other's heads now - someone has to sort them out! Oh, right, that would be my job! *grins* I'm on it ...

I probably won't get to post a chapter over the weekend so thanks in advance for your patience - hope this super long chapter makes up for that!


	10. Cause of Death

**Chapter 10: Cause of death**

"_Love many things, for therein lies the true strength, and whosoever loves much performs much, and can accomplish much, and what is done in love is done well." Vincent van Gogh_

Brennan sat on the bed, frozen for long moments just staring at the door Booth had disappeared through. She'd felt compelled to be honest with him ... up to a point. Angela's words about her being the one who needed to put herself out there _had _been at the forefront of her mind but she knew what her best friend would say were she to give a rundown of the events that had just taken place. She'd admonish Brennan for reducing it down to the physical and tell her she should have said yes to Booth's question about love, marriage and happily ever after. Angela would be disappointed in her ... and if Temperance were honest, she was disappointed in herself. She'd gotten so caught up in being Lillian Ross, the woman not only allowed to look at Booth like he was everything, but the woman expected to lose herself in the man she loved that if Booth had given her just a few more moments to respond she might have actually admitted the truth, that she didn't need to change her mind about love because she already felt it ... had felt it for some time.

It was the happily ever after part of Booth's equation that continued to hold her back ... because despite fearing that she'd never achieve the same level of happiness alone that she could achieve if she trusted Booth enough to just believe in those things because he did, the rational side of her always won. She _needed _that aspect of herself ... had begun to actively rely on it as she'd realised more and more that Angela's psychic friend Avalon had been right about Brennan. Whether it was the cards or Avalon's innate ability to read people, when the other woman had told Brennan that only her top layer was rational, she'd hit closer to the truth than even Brennan knew at the time.

Booth had changed her in many respects, even though she'd insisted she _couldn't_ change. He'd opened her eyes to feeling things again ... through the way he cared about everyone, through the cases they'd solved together, through being thrust into a world where she saw what loss did to other people almost every day, through the times when she couldn't push it aside, where she got personally involved and ended up standing at the gravesites of perfect strangers feeling a sadness and despair that made no sense. He'd changed her by reconnecting her with her inner self and as the months had slipped by on the Maluku Islands Temperance had realised that while part of her actually relished those changes the rest of her regretted the loss of her rational surface. Life in general just seemed that much harder when you could only pretend to overlook the day to day turmoil of those around you rather than genuinely not notice it.

Fear had held her back too ... there was _always_ something to be fearful of. Disappointing Booth ... failing to have the proper regard for his heart again and having to endure that look of crushing disappointment on his face and the knowledge that she was solely responsible for it. Signing on for something in the heat of the moment and finding later that she just wasn't capable of living up to it. Not being enough for Booth to overlook her idiosyncrasies, the ones he already knew about and the ones he'd discover if they got closer than they already were. They were all things that concerned her but not as much as the one fear that almost overwhelmed her at times. That, she didn't even want to think about because she was always extremely realistic and honest within herself. She'd suffered loss before and she'd handled it poorly – she'd had to close the greater part of herself away in order to make it through each day - it had taken Booth storming into her life to bring even a portion of that back within her grasp. And if she let herself have what she wanted most ... Booth ... and he left her she wasn't sure she'd ever be able to recover. It would be worse than in the past when she'd had reason and logic and her ability to compartmentalize away the things she didn't want to acknowledge to help her. Where she'd used those things to help her get through her parents and the Russ abandoning her to a life alone she _knew,_ with complete certainty, that her need to have Booth in her life was greater than her ability to compartmentalise his absence away.

Finally stirring from her internal musings, it only took a few seconds for a nervous concern to emerge. Booth was alone in the hotel and possibly under the scrutiny of a serial killer and it was her behaviour that had driven him away, that had put him in danger. Grabbing her phone she hesitated a moment and then quickly scrolled through keystrokes, pressing send as soon as the message was done.

"_Joe ... please come back to our room immediately. I know I shouldn't care what other people think but what impression does it create when you sit alone at a bar instead of being with your fiancé? I worry that you will be safe ... I need for you to be safe more than I need anything else in life. Please, come back ... Lillian._"

Her phone beeped less than a minute later and she grabbed it eagerly.

"_Lil, most people will understand that when a man contemplates the ending of one life and the beginning of another, a little introspection is probably a good thing. I would never take our partnership lightly ... I would never take you for granted. I promise you I'm okay. Go to bed Baby ... sleep ... dream of me like I dream of you. Joe._"

Brennan had been right not to call, to keep her message in character – Booth's return message made that obvious. He wasn't alone down at the bar, had probably struck up a conversation with some of the other patrons as soon as he'd arrived. She tried to read between the lines, tried to see hidden messages in his words but could only conclude that he'd forgiven her and that something about his current situation had him interested enough to stick around. She'd have to trust in his promise, go to bed as he'd asked, because to do otherwise might risk their cover and therefore his safety more than leaving him down there alone, much as that pained her.

Reluctantly she sent him a reply, knowing she had to set his mind at rest.

"_I'll go to bed but if you take too long getting back here I'm coming down there to seduce you back to bed ... that's not a threat. Lillian_."

Sighing, she quickly completed her nightly routine and settled into one side of the cold bed, sure she wouldn't be able to relax enough to sleep until she knew for sure that Booth was safe.

* * *

Booth laughed as he read Bones' second message. It would almost be worth it to delay his return just to see this seduction routine she'd promised.

"Fiancé not all that keen on you being down here?"

Booth chuckled, exchanging a glance with the man sitting beside him at the bar. It was late but there were still a handful of people around, most of them sitting at the tables away from the bar. Booth had hesitated when he'd arrived, deciding on the bar over a table because he'd recognised the other man as the clerk who'd checked them in. That level of observation would probably be a little suspicious for a couple supposedly caught up in each other so Booth had been vague, sitting down and commenting casually that the other man looked familiar. The younger man had laughed and said it was probably because he'd checked Booth and his lady love into the hotel. He admitted that he didn't remember Booth specifically because he'd literally checked in a hundred people that day and by the end of his double shift they'd all kind of blurred into each other.

"What can I say?" Booth answered the question prompted by the cell phone message, grinning a healthy, ego filled, smile. "When you've got it you've got it."

"That's a good thing though, right?" the front desk clerk asked. "You looked like a man with trouble in paradise when you sat down."

"Nah, no trouble," Booth shrugged, holding up his phone so they could see the last message. He grinned, going for smug – like he imagined a guy who's woman couldn't wait for him to return to her would be. "It's nice to be in demand but sometimes Lil doesn't get the concept of 'guy time'. You gotta have a few moments to appreciate what you've got, right?"

"Sounds like my last girlfriend," the young man laughed easily. "She thought me wanting to spend any time away from her was the same as me saying I wasn't that in to her ... drove me crazy enough that I finally had to break it off."

"Sorry to hear that," Booth held out his hand with a friendly expression, reintroducing himself. "Joseph Parker ... Joe."

"Hey Radar, you gonna drink tonight?" the bartender interrupted.

"Radar?" Booth let his brow rise. "Like on M.A.S.H.?"

"Nickname," the young man said with a grimace. "Don't ask." He grinned, adding "It would be a nice change to hear my actual name - Michael."

"Good meeting you Michael," Booth repeated, amused. "You know - you could just stop answering to Radar."

"I could," Michael agreed, "but it's probably more harmless than other nicknames they could come up with."

"There is that," Booth agreed lightly. He found himself warming to the younger man - Bones would like the guy too, and not just because she too had a not exactly welcomed nickname, although only Booth got to call her Bones. He paused to take a generous gulp of the whiskey he'd ordered and then continued. "Either of you guys got a Valentine?"

"Not me Man," Kurt replied. "Foot loose and fancy free ... that's me."

"Translation, he can't find a woman crazy enough to take him on," Michael shared in a low tone that was deliberately loud enough for his friend to hear.

"Like you have any better luck - part of the whole Radar persona my friend!" the bartender retorted.

"This weekend is always very busy for all the hotel staff," Michael excused. "Most of my part is already done for this year but then there are people wanting to check out at all times of the day or night. People wanting to change rooms ... or swap rooms if you take my meaning. Makes you want to reserve your romantic efforts for any other weekend ... that or remain single forever."

"Well, you'll excuse me for not buying in to your cynicism," Booth decided that, as the guy who'd rocked up to the hotel specifically for the romance factor, he should protest. "I'm going to enjoy the whole weekend immensely, helped by having the hottest fiancé staying here right now."

"That's what they all say," Radar shared an amused glance with his bartender friend before looking at Booth.

"You really don't remember her?" Booth was genuinely incredulous - he knew his own opinions on how hot Bones was had been shared by enough men over the years to seriously piss him off. "Tall, striking ... great figure. She's got these blue eyes that make you want to dive in and never come up for air."

"Oh_," _Michael tried to look enlightened but then laughed. "Sorry Man but no. Don't take it personally though - I'm sure she'd great. In fact, if you have cause to come to the front desk while you're here you can introduce me to your fiancé again and I'll be suitably admiring."

"I might just do that," Booth glanced at his watch, trying to decide whether he'd given Bones enough time to fall asleep.

"Worried she'd getting impatient waiting up for you?" the bartender smirked slightly.

"It might seem like I'm 'under the thumb' gentlemen, but let me finish my guy time by pointing out one thing," Booth stood, downing the rest of his whiskey, before putting the empty glass back on the counter. "While the two of you sit here contemplating your single existence I intend to go back to my room and contemplate my very attractive fiancé ... if you get my meaning."

"Aw, Man!" The bartender groaned, his friend laughing as Booth saluted them casually before taking his leave.

Walking back towards the stairs Booth considered what he'd learned. Haversham had been telling the truth – couples _did_ slink out of the hotel at odd hours before they could tie the knot. With any luck he'd be able to talk to the front desk clerk again, see if he remembered any specific couples who'd done that in the last few years, and if he remembered them talking to anyone associated with the hotel more than usual. Better yet, maybe he should get Charlie to do that for him ... that way he'd avoid looking like a weirdo for being too interested in everyone else's relationships.

Back at their room, Booth unlocked the door quietly and made his way across the room on silent feet. He could see her outline under the covers as his eyes adjusted to the dim light ... she was curled up on one side of the bed, almost hovering on the edge of falling out and didn't make a sound as he quickly stripped down to his t-shirt and shorts.

Standing between the bed and the couch, Booth considered his options. The couch would be murder on his back but would prevent any inadvertent 'activity' on his part during the night. He was pretty sure Bones wouldn't take kindly to waking up and finding him draped all over her. But if he didn't take her up on the very obvious message she was sending him – the bed was big enough for both of them – then he might as well plaster his forehead with the message that he didn't trust himself around his partner.

"We can share the bed."

Bones' low voice drifted into the silence.

"I ah ...," Booth hesitated.

"Please?"

Booth couldn't ignore that hopeful, pleading tone. Sighing silently, he padded over to the empty side of the bed, making quick work of stretching out under the covers.

"Sorry I woke you," he said, head on the pillow and eyes on a ceiling he couldn't really see.

"You didn't," Bones admitted. The sheets lifted as she turned onto her back, the mattress dipping as she settled a little closer to him.

"Oh," Booth frowned. "You didn't need to wait up."

"Would you just go to sleep if our positions had been reversed?"

"You're right," Booth turned his head, looking towards her pillow. "I wouldn't relax until I knew you were okay. I'm sorry Bones."

"You have nothing to be sorry for Booth," Brennan replied in her non nonsense tone. "It's me who should apologise again. I will endeavour not to confuse the undercover roles we're both playing with our true partnership for the remainder of our charade."

Booth choked back the need to protest her version of what had happened – to tell her that he hadn't been acting either. "Right ... you do that," he said instead, turning over so that his back was to her. He felt her shift again and knew that she was retaking her former position, her back to his too.

"Goodnight Booth," she said softly.

"Night Bones," he replied.

And then he lay there listening to the woman he loved as her breathing went from pretended relaxation into real sleep. It was the worst sort of cliché to be so aware of another human being that you literally couldn't sleep ... but it was the truth of his situation just the same. Sometime close to sunrise his brain finally ran out of steam and he drifted into a troubled sleep.

* * *

"Angela's simulation confirms that they were killed with a single blow from a blade less than half an inch wide," Wendell's earnest face took up most of Brennan's laptop screen. She and Booth had returned to the hotel room after breakfast and were waiting for the hotel's wedding advisors to arrive. "The slight curvature of the indentations on the male's right fourth thoracic rib and the corresponding female left third thoracic suggest the victims were impaled, the female on top of the male, by something with about 15 degrees of give."

"A Pariser," Hodgins interjected. Wendell shifted back a little so they could see the scientist was also present. "It's a small sword, derived from the French foil."

"A fencing weapon?" Brennan asked curiously.

"Classical fencing, yes," Hodgins replied. "Thrust fencing with a sharply pointed blade was popular up until the mid 1700s when cut fencing took over. The blades had some give but were less flexible that their modern equivalents. This is a weapon that dates back prior to modern fencing practices."

"So we're looking for an antique weapon?" Booth concluded.

"Yes," Hodgins shrugged. "Difficult to find but if you do stumble across one you can be pretty sure it'll be our murder weapon."

"Did you find similar evidence on Doctor Evan's and Ms Harpers remains?" Brennan asked.

"No, but doesn't it stand to reason that if he's done this every year he'd have perfected his technique since the first one?" Wendell suggested. "He knows bones - knows what leaves traces."

"Show me Angela's combined image again," Brennan requested. When the computer generated animation of the embracing couple took over her laptop screen her eyes narrowed as the realisation hit her. "He doesn't want to cause them pain," she said slowly. "It's a merciful blow ... the blade would have pierced both victims hearts almost simultaneously – death would have been instant. Certainly before they really understood what had happened."

"Killing them isn't this guy's primary focus," Booth added. "It's consistent with the care he takes in displaying the victims after the fact. _That's _what's driving him – creating the impression. The fact that he has to kill them to make that happen is something he glosses over – he doesn't want to dwell on it because if he does then maybe he can't do what he needs to do."

"Yes," given the evidence even Brennan was willing to speculate that much on the motives of their killer. "Good work Mr Bray, Doctor Hodgins," she complimented them. "Have you had any luck determining the method of de-fleshing used?"

"Not so far," Hodgins answered for both of them.

"We tested marrow from the femurs of all the victims," Wendell took over again, "and there's no evidence that the flesh was boiled from the bones. There are no scalpel marks apparent either," he said. "No matter how good this guy is, if he cut the flesh from the bones there'd have to be evidence, on the metatarsals or phalanges or one of the other smaller bones. These bones are pristine – too pristine. No stains from the use of chemical agents, no deterioration of the bone surface from extended exposure to water or detergent. Nothing that points to any specific methods. The only marks on the bones are the unavoidable ones created by exposure to the elements."

"I can find no evidence that Dermestes maculates – flesh eating beetles – were employed," Hodgins added, "although without the individual crime scenes it's unlikely I would. He _could_ have used beetles – in fact that would be my choice if I had to guess. We've also got nothing on the adhesive used to glue the bones together. It's cyanoacrylate – common super glue, available at every corner hardware store."

Brennan nodded, her expression suggesting that something had triggered her internal thought processes. "Mr Bray, can you show me the mandible of the first male victim – Steven Marshall?" Brennan requested.

"Sure," Wendell reached forward and the image of he and Hodgins was replaced by the x-ray of male teeth and jaws.

Brennan looked closely, her eyes narrowed. "And the magnifications you took," she requested next.

The x-rays were replaced by zoomed in images of the same bones, this time looking like an alien landscape. A single tooth took up most of the screen, the jaw line whiter in contrast.

"There's a darker segment between the right canine and the lateral incisor," Brennan pointed out.

"There is?" Wendell's voice was uncertain.

"See if you can get a sample," Brennan requested. "Check for something similar between all the teeth as well as any of the hard to reach areas on all the victims. Call me as soon as you get test results."

"Yes, Ma'am," Wendell responded promptly, taking that as his cue to end the transmission. "How does she always do that?" he muttered.

"What, look at something you've gone over with a fine tooth comb and still see something you didn't?" Hodgins clarified.

"Yes!" Wendell exclaimed.

"No idea," Hodgins chuckled when the young intern looked disgruntled. "Lucky for us she does otherwise we'd be fresh out of things to investigate."

"Good point," Wendell agreed, dragging the magnifier over the male mandible and bending close to do what his mentor had requested.

* * *

"You've got an idea about how the killer cleans the bones," Booth deduced.

"Not at this stage but most methods leave traces, either on the bones or in how they affect the marrow underneath," Brennan explained. "Natural decomposition itself wouldn't be detectable but takes considerably longer than what we know of the gap between the dates of disappearance and times of death. The bones are too clean for that ... I'd agree with Hodgins that some method of flesh eating was used but even then the environment under which the de-fleshing took place can leave its mark on the bones."

"So you find evidence of what was used to eat the flesh and you find the killer?" Booth queried.

"Probably not," Brennan admitted. "If Doctor Hodgins is correct in guessing that beetles were used then we'll have nothing more to go on. While they're not readily available an enterprising individual would be able to acquire sufficient quantities without our being able to trace them."

"So we hope they used something that _is_ traceable," Booth said simply.

Brennan would have said something about her partner's eternal optimism but the knock on the door stopped her. The wedding consultants had arrived.

"Show time," Booth said simply, getting up to answer the door.

Brennan smoothed her hands down over her skirt, taking a deep breath and thinking about being 'in character'.

**Authors Note:**

Wow, it's so hard to be consistent while trying to build on the internal ruminations and emotional growth of each character - and although it should, it's not helping that I've got the story all written; just means I spend too much time during editing rereading things! I'm uncomfortable with 'pleading' for reviews and certainly wouldn't dream of holding the next chapters hostage for that purpose so I'll just reiterate again that a few moments of your time to let me know how I'm doing on this would be much appreciated.

Sadly I won't be able to update this tomorrow night - I'll be interstate for work and won't be able to take my computer with me. So I'll be back with the next chapter the night after tomorrow. Please accept my apologies for not replying to the last chapter's reviews before posting again - I apprecate all your comments and will get to replies when I return. Thanks again for reading, reviewing and alerting!


	11. Narrowing the search

**Chapter 11: Narrowing the search**

"_Love is like seaweed; even if you have pushed it away, you will not prevent it from coming back." Nigerian Proverb._

"Mr Parker?"

"Yes," Booth held open the door, smiling welcomingly at the man and woman standing on the other side. Both were on the young side, neatly dressed in almost matching his and her suits, creating the first impression of friendly yet businesslike.

"James Davis," the man introduced himself, "and this is my associate Mary Taylor. Mr Haversham arranged for us to visit with you this morning to talk weddings?"

"Of course, come in," Booth stepped back and let them in. "This is my fiancée Lillian Ross."

"Congratulations on your upcoming nuptials," Mary smiled at Bones, clearly aligning herself to the female half of their clients. It was logical, having a male/female team consulting. That way you had the male's point of view covered while still allowing the females to gush over all the details that men thought unimportant. Brennan wasn't sure she'd be able to gush convincingly and hoped it wouldn't be necessary for their charade to be believable.

"Thank you," Temperance moved to stand next to Booth, the way his arm came over her shoulders to gather her close feeling too much like habit already. For a moment she wondered how they were going to return to normal but determinedly pushed that worrying thought aside.

"Let's sit down with our guests Honey," Booth suggested, moving towards the sitting area. He waited until Brennan sat down on the two seater couch before sitting down next to her. Unlike when they sat on the couch in Doctor Sweets' office where each had their own corner, this time Booth didn't give her that space. In fact he didn't give her _any_ space, his larger body crowding her in a way that she had to admit was pleasant – in an alpha male protective way.

"You've decided on a private ceremony?" Mary asked, the two consultants sitting in each of the two single seater chairs across the table.

"We want it to be special," Booth answered for both of them. "Lil was thinking maybe the combined ceremony until we found out that some of the couples aren't as sincere about their feelings as we are."

"We do get an interesting mix of people, particularly this time of year," James agreed with a conspiratorial chuckle for Booth's benefit. "Let's just say that not everyone knows their own mind ... or is as willing to be completely honest with their partner as the two of you obviously are. I understand that you don't want to align yourselves with anything less than the real deal."

"That's it exactly," Booth grinned. "I bet you could tell some stories, right?"

"You have no idea," James shared a meaningful glance with Mary but didn't elaborate.

"Mr Haversham also mentioned that there are always dropouts ...," Brennan said uncertainly. "When I thought we'd do the combined ceremony I wanted to meet the other couples but Mr Haversham said there are always couples who change their minds."

"Lil's shy," Booth explained. Brennan glanced at him and was surprised to see that even she could read his expression - a mix of pride and the need to protect. She smiled uncertainly as Booth continued. "I didn't want to put her through the effort of meeting a group of strangers if it ends up amounting to nothing."

"We do have couples who don't go through with it," Mary confirmed. "Usually they're the 'spur of the moment' types – our Valentine's Day weekend gives people time to think and not surprisingly some of them do change their minds. And not just those doing the group ceremony. I remember last year we had one couple who got all the way to the day – paperwork, fees, and everything – but then didn't turn up for their ceremony."

"That won't be us, right honey?" Booth put a hand on Brennan's knee, squeezing lightly. "We've had this planned almost since the day we met."

"How did you meet, if you don't mind my asking?" James asked curiously before Brennan could voice another question about that previous year's couple.

"My construction company was contracted to do some emergency maintenance work at Lil's school," Booth began. "She's a teacher," he added proudly, looking at Brennan instead of their audience.

"Joe interrupted my class," Brennan smiled, keeping her gaze to Booth's as she imagined a real couple in love would. "I was annoyed but at the same time intrigued by this man who came in and just took over."

"There was definitely a spark there," Booth agreed. "I was forced to work with Lil to coordinate the repairs around her class schedule and by the end of the contract we'd become a couple."

"I knew, from the very beginning, that he was the one," Brennan added, worried they hadn't made their meeting sound romantic enough to spur a dash to Vegas three months later to get married.

"Yeah, it was love pretty much at first sight, for both of us," Booth agreed, his eyes locked on hers. The depths she saw there captivated her enough that she _couldn't_ look away. It had happened numerous times before but this time it was different - either because of their pretended closeness or the fact that they'd slipped across the line more than once in recent days and it no longer felt strictly pretend. For the first time Brennan felt close to deciphering the meaning swirling inside Booth's eyes and understanding once and for all the true nature of their relationship.

"That's so sweet," Mary's words broke into their private moment, both of them snapping back to reality and abruptly looking back to the consultants.

"I'm sure there are a lot more romantic stories out there," Booth said with a laugh. "This one is special because it's ours," he added, pressing a warm kiss to Brennan's temple. "There was no point waiting any longer to get married. When you're sure, you're sure, right Babe?"

"Right, muffin," Brennan took secret delight in knowing Booth would find the endearment just as distasteful as she found his 'baby' and all its derivatives.

"Well, you make a lovely couple," Mary gushed enthusiastically. "Don't they James?"

"You _do_ have an air of togetherness we don't normally see in people who've been together for what is a relatively short time," James agreed.

"We just clicked, you know?" Brennan kept her expression blank as Booth shared another of those obvious man-to-man looks with James. "Like soul mates, or something."

"A friend suggested that Joe and I had known each other in another life," Brennan added, "and while I don't believe in reincarnation, the sentiment behind the statement was both touching and appropriate."

"See – soul mates," Booth repeated with a laugh. "I don't understand half of what she says but I know I like it."

"Okay, let's talk options then," James suggested, getting down to business. "So, you're set on a private ceremony?"

"I think so," Booth agreed, exchanging a meaningful glance with Brennan. Leaning down he put his mouth close to her ear and whispered "do something," the heat of his breath making her shiver slightly.

Brennan frowned, her eyes on his, his expression urging her to act. Mentally replaying the conversation so far she suddenly realised what he was silently asking of her. They needed to get the conversation back to that couple who hadn't turned up for their own private ceremony and he wanted her to acheive that.

"That's what I want too," Brennan let the last work out in a half sob, dropping her head to hide her expression, hoping that Booth would understand and play along.

"Honey, what's wrong?" Booth put a hand on her back in concern.

"Nothing," Brennan looked up suddenly, tears in her eyes. "It's just ... what if this is the wrong thing Joe? What if we're making a mistake eloping like this?"

"We're not making a mistake," Booth shot James and Mary an apologetic look before focussing back on his distraught fiancée.

"How can you _know _that?" Brennan demanded, getting more tears to gather and then overflow down her cheeks. "You heard them Joe – they said another couple only last year changed their minds at the last minute! I just ... I don't want to start our life together on the wrong foot." She gave in, resting her head on Booth's chest and letting more tears fall.

"They're not us honey," Booth insisted, running his hand up and down her back.

"Your fiancé is right Ms Ross," Mary said. "The couple I spoke of must have had some kind of family emergency that required them to leave suddenly ... they didn't stop to tell anyone."

"You didn't think that was strange?" Booth asked curiously, continuing to pat Brennan's back as she quietly sobbed.

"Emergencies happen all the time," Mary shrugged, "and it's not our place to query what the clients decide to do. I rang the mobile Maggie gave me – that's the bride – but there was no answer, understandable if they'd been called to the hospital or something like that. There were other weddings to organise so I didn't give it another thought, but they were very much in love. I'm sure that as soon as they could they got married somewhere else."

"Oh," Brennan made a play out of sniffing and then bravely wiping her eyes. Smiling weakly at Booth she sniffed again. "Sorry – I guess I'm more nervous about this than I realised. Not about marrying you of course, just about the wedding itself."

"It's okay," Booth bent his head low, whispering in her ear "that was inspired Bones ... Oscar winning material."

She smiled - it was always satisfying to surprise her partner. Turning to their audience she tried to look apologetic. "I'm sorry – please, continue."

James nodded, launching back into what was probably his standard spiel about the various ways they could get married at the Bellagio. Brennan and Booth played along, answering questions, making snap decisions, and then filling in forms with details they kept as close to the truth as possible to avoid slipping up. When it was done Joe Parker and Lillian Ross were scheduled for a simple private ceremony on the morning of Valentine's Day ... in two days time.

* * *

"Okay, that's it," James finally announced after what felt to Booth like hours.

"You guys were great," Mary added. "You have no idea how even the most in love couples argue over details. You seemed to agree on just about everything."

"Soul mates," Booth said a little lamely, thinking maybe they shouldn't have been quite so agreeable with each other.

"Joe is just being kind," Brennan grabbed his hand and held on tightly. "Before I met him I had no real social life. In fact I was totally consumed with my work – I'm just not that concerned about details I know most women would argue over because having him in my life is more important than anything else."

Even though he knew she was acting - and doing a damn fine job of it, her words still touched him. Maybe she didn't love him but he _was _important to her and that meant something. "Back at ya," Booth couldn't stop himself from leaning in and kissing her firmly. "So, are we done?" he asked James, doing that male bonding 'I want to sex up my woman so please leave' thing he'd done with the desk clerk the day before.

"We'll leave you to 'celebrate'," James said with an amused smile. Holding out a hand he shook Booth's. "It will be a pleasure to organise your wedding."

"Thank you," Booth stood, escorting the two consultants to the door and opening it for them. Breathing a sigh of relief as soon as the door closed, he turned and leaned back against it tiredly. The line between what was real and what was an act and what was real that they were utilising for their act had become more than a little blurry. Looking over at where Brennan still sat on the couch Booth smiled weakly. "That was interesting."

"How so?" Bones got up and moved to the bar, pouring herself a glass of water. Bringing the bottle as well she handed it to Booth before moving to stand beside the window.

"He could be our guy," Booth said, taking a drink gratefully. "He's got inside information and he's in a position to bury it should someone notice the disappearance of too many couples. He's the right age too and clearly believes in the ideal as well as the reality of love and marriage." Taking out his phone he punched in the number for the FBI. "Charlie, I need you to run another name ... James Davis, wedding consultant for the Bellagio. I want everything, how long he's been here, his background, lost loves, every detail you can get me."

"Okay," Charlie agreed. "I ran that other name. Nigel Haversham. Born in London thirty nine years ago. Started at the Bellagio as a clerk in 1996 and slowly worked up to manager of special events. I checked out his movements the past couple of Valentine's Days – he's heavily involved in hosting all the events there. I can't see him having the time to do what was done to both sets of vics."

"He wasn't really on my list," Booth agreed. "Thanks Charlie – get back to me as soon as you can on Davis."

"Will do," Charlie agreed before hanging up.

"So what now?" Brennan asked, watching him fold his phone away.

"Something to eat?" Booth smiled hopefully.

"Is there ever a time when you're not hungry?" Brennan asked, amused.

"When I'm asleep," Booth joked, "although sometimes I do dream about pie. Do you think that means something?"

"I'll ask Sweets at our next session."

"Did you just make a joke?" Booth laughed, wrapping his arm around Bones companionably and moving towards the door.

* * *

"Hello," Brennan just stopped herself from answering her phone with the usual 'Doctor Temperance Brennan'.

"Sweetie, how's everything going?" Angela Montenegro answered.

"Angela," Brennan said for Booth's benefit as well. He smiled at her from across the table before turning his attention to the other patrons present in the cafe they'd settled on. "Although we haven't made any significant discoveries things appear to be going well," Brennan responded to her friends question.

"What about Booth ... are you still worried about him?"

Brennan hesitated, not sure how to answer given that Booth was sitting within hearing distance. "I can't talk about that now," she decided on delaying the inevitable conversation.

"Oh, he's there with you," Angela laughed. "I understand. You can just answer with yes or no, okay? So, are you still concerned?"

"Yes and no," Brennan said truthfully.

"Does it have anything to do with the fact that you're undercover pretending to be an engaged couple?"

"What? How did you -," Brennan broke off, frowning.

"Agent Burns called Cam for some information about the remains this morning and let it drop," Brennan could hear the grin in her friend's voice. "Funny how _you _failed to share this piece of vital information with your best friend."

"Because I knew what you would say!" Brennan shot back. "It's a pretence Angela."

"A pretence _he _wishes was real," Angela said gently.

"You can't know that," Brennan insisted. Booth looked at her with a concerned expression and she shook her head slightly, trying to tell him it was nothing. He nodded, but continued to watch her curiously. "It's fine Angela," she said dismissively.

"Doesn't the fact that you can convince a hotel full of staff that you're in love tell you something?" Angela persisted.

"People see what they expect to see," Brennan repeated something that Booth had told her many times over the years.

"You know, if I were you I'd see this as a golden opportunity," Angela said slyly. "A trial run to see what it would be like to be with Booth for real. At the very least you'd finally get the chance to see what it's like to give in to the sexual attraction between you instead of ignoring it like there's no tomorrow!"

"I'm already in possession of that information," Brennan admitted honestly.

"_What_? You had sex with Booth?" Angela exclaimed. "When? What happened?"

"No! It wasn't like that Angela. _Nothing _happened," Brennan explained, using her logical, emotionless tone. "You can ask Booth if you don't believe me."

"Ask me what?" Booth asked, leaning forward.

"Don't worry, I will!" Angela replied at the same time. "In fact, put him on now. And don't bother refusing because you know I'll just call him instead."

Brennan held her phone out to Booth expressionlessly. "She wants to speak to you."

* * *

Booth took the phone from hs partner, frowning. "Angela, is everything okay?"

"You _slept _with Bren?" Angela accused.

"What? _No_! Why would you think that?" Booth looked at Bones. "Why does she think we," he leaned in closer and whispered "slept together?"

"Well, technically we _did _sleep together, although not in the manner Angela thinks," Bones returned logically.

"It was -," Booth broke off with a grimace. "You know what, now isn't the time to talk about this Angela."

"Well, whatever happened, I'm sure it wasn't part of your little 'soon to be a married couple' charade!" Angela sighed. "Aren't you tired of pretending?"

"It's our job," Booth deliberately misunderstood. Now wasn't the time to talk about _that _either.

"Right," Angela was silent for a moment and then spoke seriously. "Booth, let me give you some advice here. Don't make the mistake of taking everything Brennan says as the truth of what she wants. She's afraid and uncertain and when she gets that way she doesn't see things as clearly as you think. She might be logical and reasoned on the surface but that's not always what's going on inside."

"I would never - , Booth broke off again, his eyes locked on his partner's, frustrated at the half conversation.

"I know you would never hurt her," Angela said softly. "And she knows it too. She's afraid of herself Booth, not you. Just think about it, okay?"

"Okay," Booth agreed. "Listen, we have to go - there's a lunch thing here. Bones and I need to make an appearance."

"Just be careful," Angela urged.

"I'll look after her," Booth promised, his eyes still on Bones as he ended the call and handed her back her phone.

"I'm perfectly capable of looking after myself!" Brennan said irritably.

"Doesn't mean I can't assist you with that," Booth refused to rise to the bait. "You done?" he gestured to her teacup.

"Yes. What did Angela say?" Bones continued without a pause.

"You don't want to know," he returned evasively.

"Yes I do," Bones insisted.

"Trust me, you don't," Booth got up, threw some bills on the table and then put his hand under her elbow to urge her up too. "Come on, we've got work to do - time to get back in character."

"I find this high handed behaviour of yours to be very annoying," Bones murmured even as she smiled and let him draw her closer.

"If you still want to know once the case is done I'll tell you then," Booth promised.

Bones still looked like she wanted to argue but to his relief she nodded, turning her attention back to the job at hand.

* * *

Back at the Jeffersonian Wendell Bray had done all that he could to extract enough material from between the victims teeth for Hodgins to test. When the older man skidded to a stop outside the lab late in the day and urged Wendell to come with him to Doctor Saroyan's office, the young anthropologist was hopeful that finally they had a genuine lead.

"We need to talk to Dr B," Hodgins announced before they'd made it fully inside the room.

"Talk about what Doctor Hodgins?" Cam asked mildly.

"About what the killer used to clean the bones," Hodgins grinned. "You're gonna love this one."

"Well, don't keep us in suspense then."

"I'd prefer to talk to Dr B first," Hodgins insisted.

"Right, of course you would," Cam sighed. "Make the call Mr Bray."

Wendell grinned, quickly putting in a video call to the Bellagio. As soon as Doctor Brennan appeared on screen, clearly dressed for dinner, a suited Agent Booth standing behind her, Hodgins launched into speech.

"I know why there are no scalpel marks, no stains on the bones, no outward signs of how the flesh was removed," Hodgins revealed with an air of excited challenge. "If we had the crime scenes there'd be no traces of beetle activity either. It's because the killer didn't use any of those methods, or anything else I've ever seen before. Ask me what he used."

"_Hodgins_," Cam looked at him pointedly, silently requesting that he get on with it.

"Pygocentrus nattereri," Hodgins said it reverently as though he thought they'd all know what that was and be equally as impressed.

"Which is ...?," Cam asked expectantly.

"Red-bellied piranhas," Hodgins grinned at their incredulous expressions. "That shadow Dr B detected turned out to be microscopic fragments of scales from the tail fin of a red-bellied piranha. It also explains those minute striations all over the bones. They were teeth marks, again consistent with the jaw of the same species."

"Piranhas?" Booth repeated disbelievingly.

"I _know_, I hear you man," Hodgins replied. "Given the time between when our first set of victims disappeared from that hotel and when we think they were most likely arranged in the National Park, plus the fact that the bones show no signs of softening due to an extended immersion in water, I'd say a school of at least four hundred ... in a _really_ big tank." He looked around and then announced "King of the lab," with a jubilant grin.

"Hodgins," Cam said warningly, her attention fixed on where Brennan stood, eyes wide and face paler than it had been before Jack's revelation. Something was wrong.

* * *

"_Booth_," Brennan said urgently, turning to her partner.

"What is it?" Booth instinctively stepped forward protectively, bending his head closer and putting a hand on her shoulder.

"My lecture ... the day we met," Brennan looked at him, the expression in her eyes a mix of horror and dread.

"Ah ... that was on de-fleshing methods too, right?" For once Seeley didn't try to pretend he hadn't learned a thing in the years he'd been working so closely with the squints. "Is that important?"

"Yes!" Brennan turned to look back at the laptop where the rest of their audience were watching curiously. "I was lecturing at the American University the first time Booth approached me to assist with identifying the remains of a young girl. A course on traditional and emerging methods for de-fleshing skeletal remains while preserving the entirety of the bones."

"And piranhas were one of the methods you suggested?" Booth asked uncertainly.

"_No_," Brennan returned. "The myth about piranhas devouring whole bodies in a matter of minutes is just that – a myth. One of my students asked about it during the lecture – I only remember because the rest of the class laughed and it took me some effort to return them to an appropriate degree of levity."

"I bet you didn't laugh," Booth said with a faint smile.

"Of course not," Brennan looked insulted for a moment. "Scientific endeavour requires creativity just as much as it does the application of rigorous and defensible techniques. I congratulated the student on his suggestion and urged him to research exactly how many specimens in what volume of water would be needed to make the technique a viable one."

"And did he?" Booth had that tingling feeling that said finally they were on the right track.

"I have no idea," Brennan revealed grimly. "It never came up again ... the course only ran for a few weeks."

"I don't suppose you remember his name?" Booth asked hopefully.

"It _was_ most than seven years ago," Bones reminded him unnecessarily.

"What about if you had a class list?" Booth persisted. "Would you remember it then?"

"Maybe," Bones allowed. "I don't have one but I'm sure the American University is diligent in fulfilling its record keeping requirements."

"I can contact the University," Cam suggested, "get you that list."

"Thanks Cam," Booth said. "As soon as you have it, send it to my mobile. Bones and I will have to continue with what we're doing here until we've got a name we can match to the hotel staff. He'll be here somewhere and the last thing we need is to tip him off before we're ready to pick him up."

"Just be careful Seeley, you too Doctor Brennan," Cam urged. "Don't underestimate how dangerous this individual is."

"We'll be diligent Mom," Booth said sarcastically. "Just get us that list," he moved to shut down the connection. Brennan let him, calling out a hurried 'excellent work Doctor Hodgins' before they disappeared from the screen.

"King of the lab," Hodgins said again in a low tone.

"King of the lab," Cam agreed, patting his shoulder before moving to call the University.

**Authors Note:**

Apologies I didn't get a chapter out last night - a very full day of presenting training and then flying home had me crashing out on the couch at 9:30pm and not waking up until 3am! Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, particularly everyone I can't reply to directly. This story has broken all my Stargate fanfic records for alerts and number of reviews for a single chapter which is awesome but nerve wracking too because I really want the rest of this to live up to expectations! I'll do my best ... starting with this chapter which was hopefully believable rather than ridiculous!

As always, thank you all for reading!


	12. Suspect

**Chapter 12: Suspect**

"_Neither a lofty degree of intelligence nor imagination nor both together go to the making of genius. Love, love, love, that is the soul of genius." Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart_

"Finally," Booth commented on what felt like their first real break in the case, straighening his already straight tie and then reaching for his dinner jacket. Looking at Bones, he frowned. "Maybe you should sit this one out," he suggested.

"I don't understand," Bones looked back at him with a puzzled frown. "Isn't it a necessary part of our charade that we appear at the hotel's Valentine's functions together?"

"He knows who you are Bones!" Booth paced to the windows and then back to her, trying to speak reasonably even though a part of him had been clenched tight inside with worry since he'd worked out that one crucial fact. "Somewhere in this hotel at least one person knows that what we're doing here is just a pretence. Either he plans to use that in some way or he's long gone - clearing out would have been the smart thing to do but ..."

"But you don't think that's the case?" Bones asked.

"No, and that puts us at a disadvantage," Booth admitted. "This guy is a creature of habit. He's done this every year since ...," Seeley stopped suddenly, the potential interpretation of what he'd been about to say abruptly occurring to him.

"Since he attended my lecture series," Brennan completed for him. "You think something I said then inspired him."

"Of course not!" Booth moved closer, intent on making his point understood. "The timing doesn't mean anything. You're not responsible for any of this Bones."

"I urged a student to research a technique for de-fleshing that he later used in the murders of seven couples," Bones pointed out irritably.

"If he hadn't used that method it would have been something else," Booth said, taking her elbows in his hands, intent on making his point. "He would have killed anyway Bones ... what you showed him was window dressing, nothing more."

He kept his eyes on hers, letting her see the sincerity and belief in him. She watched him intently for a few moments and then nodded. The urge to hug her, to offer comfort on a physical level, was there and after two days of taking the lid off his natural desires to treat her like his romantic partner Booth was pulling her into his arms before the thought occurred that they had no witness present to fuel their pretence.

Bones sighed, dropping her head to his shoulder. Booth was too aware of the fact that she _let _him comfort her - she was troubled by the connection they'd discovered between the murders and her academic past, despite his attempts to reassure her.

"We'll get this guy," he promised, squeezing a little tighter for a moment before reluctantly making himself step back. "Look ... take the night off - let me check out this function alone, okay?"

"If you're going then I'm going too," Bones insisted stubbornly. When Booth opened his mouth to protest she stopped him. "He could just as easily know you as well," she argued logically. "You were there too Booth ... you drew attention to yourself in front of the whole class _- _you even introduced yourself _before _all the students had left the lecture hall. In fact we could just as easily argue that your question about all the evidence being in the flesh and my resulting answer could just as easily have inspired our killer to take such lengths with his victims remains as the contents of my lectures."

"Gee thanks Bones," Booth said sarcastically. "Way to encourage a guy!"

"I'm simply pointing out that the reasons for my not attending this evening's function just as easily apply to you," Bones persisted logically.

"Right, of course," Booth sighed. He should have known he'd end up giving in before they'd started the conversation. Bones just had a way of winning him over, always had - it frustrated the hell out of him but strangely he wouldn't have it any other way. "Grab your bag," he capitulated a little ungraciously.

"You were right about one thing," Bones commented as she put her cell phone in her evening bag and picked up her wrap. "The killer always leaves a mark. I just wish I could remember that particular lecture in more detail."

"Cam will get the attendee list - something will pop," Booth assured her. "In the mean time we'll go do this dinner thing, keep our eyes open. If you see _anyone _who looks familiar, even just a little bit, you tell me straight up, okay?"

"I might not recognise him," Brennan admitted. "Unless a student spoke to me personally I'm not sure I'd know they were at those lectures. Maybe the first few rows but beyond that it was always hard to see individual faces. At the time I was more engaged in the subject matter than I was in attempting to understand the people."

"Until I came along and opened your eyes to the wider world," Booth said with a self congratulatory smile, escorting her to the door with a hand to her back.

"Until you came along and involved me with murderers and victims and their families," she elaborated, reminding him that there was a downside to that greater perspective.

"But it was worth it right, even with all that?" Booth tried not to show how much her answer meant to him."

"I feel sure that, given what I know now, I would still agree to assist you with that first case," Brennan said decisively.

"Thanks Bones," Booth smiled at his partner fondly as they got into the lift.

"You're welcome Booth."

* * *

The dinner was in full swing when they arrived. Brennan smoothed a hand down her simple black dress, taking Booth's arm and signalling her readiness to return to their undercover role. Booth grinned down at her, charming her as usual. Where usually she'd try to hide that fact in her current role she did the opposite, letting her eyes linger on his a little too long and smiling somewhat suggestively as she shifted closer. Booth blinked, swallowed visibly and then seemed to gather himself in, grinning approvingly. Wrapping his arm around her shoulders he entered the fray - navigating around tables and nodding to patrons and staff along the way. They found their table and made casual conversation with the other occupants throughout the three course dinner. Well, if she were honest, _Booth _made casual conversation while smoothing over the unreasonable reactions some of their dinner companions had to her blunt assessment of the chances that all of them would still be married a year from now. It was a fair comment though ... divorce rates were rising all the time - and if the woman hadn't wanted Brennan's honest opinion then she shouldn't have asked.

When the music picked up in volume couples quickly moved to fill the dance floor, including all those at their table. Brennan watched them as she considered asking Booth to dance with her. It would be in character but she admitted to herself that it wouldn't matter if it wasn't. She'd last danced with Booth at her high school reunion - it had been both awkward and reassuring on some level and she was curious to see whether the status quo had changed since then.

"We should dance."

Temperance smiled as Booth took away the need for her to ask him. On the plus side not having to ask left some of her more awkward memories in the past. But on the down side she couldn't help but wonder why Booth had been so reluctant to dance when they'd been undercover as a married couple but now didn't seem to have the same problem. Nodding instead of verbalising a positive response she stood and let him take her hand and lead them to a free space on the dance floor. The music was slow and steady, to be expected for a romantic event attended solely by people intending to get married within the next two days. They stood in front of each other for a few moments, the space between them an almost physical thing, before Booth pulled her forward until her chest collided softly with his. Her breath left her lungs in a rush of warmth that stirred his shirt lightly. When he squirmed a little, Brennan smiled.

"Remember, I lead," he leaned down to whisper in her ear.

And then he wrapped an arm around her waist, holding one of her hands close to his chest with the other. Setting off in time to the music, Booth waltzed them in a small circle around their unofficially designated dance space. He twirled her out at one point and then reeled her in again, eliciting a breathless laugh from Brennan. Gathering her even closer he leaned down again.

"Did I tell you how hot you look in that dress?"

"The ambient temperature seems quite reasonable, " Brennan commented casually, "otherwise I fear I'd be very much underdressed for the night time climate."

"Hot as in attractive ... sexy," Booth corrected with an amused smile. "You look beautiful tonight."

"You are also looking attractive this evening," Brennan returned his smile with one of her own. Used to seeing him in a suit of some sort his exceptional good looks always struck her anew when they were engaged in a social event - perhaps because it wasn't something they were accustomed to doing together.

"What, no comments on the width of my shoulders or the symmetry of my bones?" Booth teased.

"I've discovered over the years that most men are uncomfortable with specific anatomical compliments," Brennan admitted. "In fact, they prefer to be judged on the attractiveness of their partner, rather than on their own physical characteristics."

"Well in that case _I _am the hottest guy here," Booth said smoothly, dancing them both around in a quick circle before returning to a more sedate style.

"Anthropologically speaking women are attracted to potential mates for a variety of reasons," Bones explained, ignoring his extravagant compliment. "Physical appearance is only one aspect. The ability to provide a safe environment - shelter and sustenance - as well as positive attributes such as strength and intelligence that can be passed down to any offspring is often more important. Of course most people want a mate with all of these qualities."

"You know, when a man gives you a compliment you just smile and say 'thank you'," Booth instructed blandly.

Brennan looked into his eyes for a few moments and then spoke. "Based on the male criteria of attractiveness I believe that I too am being judged as the ... hottest female present," she said earnestly if a little awkwardly.

"Why thank you Bones," Booth held her closer, dipping his head to rest against hers.

His warmth surrounded her. There had always been something comforting ... _safe _... about being held in the arms of Seeley Booth and for once she let herself just enjoy it, drifting in time to the rhythm he set them.

* * *

Sometime around the fourth or fifth dance Booth admitted to himself that he'd be content to dance with Temperance Brennan forever, and if that wasn't possible then at least until they came to drag him to the old folks home. Her fragrance was making him light headed in the best possible way and it was seriously hindering his ability to do his job. Her safety was the only thing that motivated him to keep his focus - every other couple they passed on the dance floor, every staff member who served them, spoke to them, or just hovered on the edges of the event met his considering gaze. So far nothing out of the ordinary had hit him and he was beginning to wonder if it ever would - a guy who'd avoided his killings being discovered as such, let along become a suspect was going to be too good to let himself be called under suspicion at a simple social function. Maybe they needed a different strategy here.

Booth was about to comment as much to his partner when his phone rang. Moving quickly to answer it he kept one arm around Bones and walked them to the edge of the dance floor. "Yes?"

"I've got those details you were after," Charlie Booth announced. He began running through the stats on James Davis.

"Stop – where did you say he studied?" Booth asked, exchanging a meaningful glance with Bones.

"Ah ... three years at American University, 2002 to 2004," Charlie revealed. "Studied sociology and anthropology. That's some kind of coincidence - especially since he didn't pop when we cross checked the employee list against American University Graduates"

"I don't believe in coincidences," Booth said grimly. "I think we need to have another chat with Mr Davis." Hanging up abruptly he turned to Bones. "Let's go," he said, urging her to walk with him towards the exit. Once outside he quickly filled her in on Charlie's information.

"What are you going to do?" Bones asked.

"Invite our wedding consultant to have a drink with us ... a _private_ drink," Booth smiled that hunter after the prey smile of his.

Brennan nodded, falling into step beside her partner. Since their target hadn't been at the dinner Booth asked at the front desk where they'd find James Davis, citing the need to confirm wedding details. The clerk told them the wedding consultant was working late and directed them to an office on the same floor as the event rooms.

"Let me do the talking," Booth ordered, knocking on the door firmly before opening it without waiting for an invitation inside. "Working late there Davis," he commented, closing the door behind them.

"Mr Parker, Ms Ross, this is a surprise," James smiled uncertainly. "I just put the finishing touches to your wedding arrangements actually so I hope there isn't a problem?"

"You can cut the act Davis," Booth said grimly. "You and I both know Doctor Brennan and I aren't getting married."

"Who's Doctor Brennan?" James looked nervous at the way Booth was looming over him.

"I am," Brennan stepped forward a little, "which you know since you attended one of my lectures late in 2004 at American University. On de-fleshing techniques in forensic anthropology."

"I don't know what you're talking about," James protested, getting up and holding a hand out as though warding them off. "Who _are _you people?"

"Special Agent Seeley Booth, FBI," Booth announced, holding out his badge for inspection. "And this is Doctor Temperance Brennan of the Jeffersonian Institution."

"You're not eloping?" James couldn't seem to grasp the true situation.

"Not this weekend," Booth leaned in menacingly. "We're investigating a series of disappearances from this hotel over the past seven years. Including the couple your colleague mentioned so casually this morning. We know everything. Interesting that you never mentioned having met Doctor Brennan before."

"Because I never met her!" James insisted. "Okay, yes I went to American University and I was there in 2004 but I never attended any lectures on, what was it, de-fleshing? I would have signed up if it was an elective for my degree, but I changed my minor and obviously didn't end up going."

"What did you do instead?" Brennan asked curiously.

"Ah ... I ah ... I took dance classes okay," James admitted. "Did an extra year at George Washington University and ended up with a combined degree in sociology and performing arts. You can probably check with the University – signing the attendance sheet for dance was compulsory."

"No wonder he ended up as a wedding consultant," Brennan commented to Booth. "His choice of majors is neither sensible nor practically applicable in the job market."

"Can you give us your whereabouts every year around Valentine's Day – for last year and then going back six years?" Booth demanded, ignoring his partner's aside.

"Okay, for the past three years I would have been here, doing whatever it is we had planned for that day, which probably included at least one wedding ceremony," James explained, dropping back into his chair. "Surely a few of them would remember that I was there. Prior to 2008 I wasn't even here – I was in New York attempting to make a living dancing. The fact that I'm here now will tell you how successful _that _turned out to be."

Booth sat down across from Davis, Bones at his shoulder, watching Davis intently. James shifted nervously but maintained eye contact with the FBI agent through the intense scrutiny.

"We _will_ be checking everything you've told us," Booth promised, standing up again. "If I find out you lied to me about _anything_ I'll find something to bust you for, and trust me, guys like you don't do well in prison."

When Booth nodded to Brennan, putting a hand to her back to escort her out James protested. "That's it?"

"Stay where we can find you," Booth ordered. "And don't tell anyone what we talked about."

"So, you guys are under cover?" James seemed relaxed now that he was off the hook. "Because seriously, that is so cool! You had me completely fooled and I can usually tell the posers from the real thing."

"That's why we work for the FBI and you work here," Booth pointed out. "Now, we're going to continue under cover and you're going to help us by keeping your mouth shut. If anyone finds out we're not who we say we are, I'm coming back to make you pay."

"_What_? That's hardly fair," James protested.

"Life seldom is," Booth urged Bones forward, opening the door and escorting her out.

"You believed him?" Brennan asked as soon as they'd put some distance between them and the wedding consultant's office.

"Did you?" Booth countered.

"He seemed sincere," Brennan allowed. "And his additional study at George Washington University could explain why his name didn't come up in the search Agent Burns did on the hotel's current employees."

Booth's phone ringing interrupted them again. "Booth," he said impatiently.

"Seeley," Cam's voice greeted him. The corridor was deserted and he pressed the speaker button so Bones could hear her too. "Cam," he mouthed.

"Doctor Saroyan," Brennan looked at Booth as she spoke. "You have the class list?"

"I do," Cam replied. "Angela matched it to the list of hotel employees she got from your colleague at the FBI."

"There was only one match," Angela spoke up. "A Christian O'Connor. Does that name ring a bell?"

"There aren't any bells here Angela," Bones pointed out logically.

"She means is it familiar?" Booth translated for her.

"Oh, sorry," Bones frowned thoughtfully. "The name is one I recall seeing but I can't put a face to it."

"You don't need to sweetie," Angela said reassuringly. "I matched the name to the vehicle registrations database, and got a current drivers license. I'm sending it through to Booth's phone now."

Booth's phone beeped obligingly. "We've got it Angela," Bones said. "Thank you."

"Be careful okay, you too Booth," Angela urged.

"We'll be fine Angela," Booth promised before closing off the call.

Bones moved close, leaning against his shoulder as Booth opened Angela's message and loaded up the file.

"I don't believe it!" Booth growled, glaring down at the image revealed, including the drivers full name ... Christian _Michael_ O'Connor.

"Isn't that the front desk clerk?" Bones asked uncertainly.

"Yeah, that bastard had our number from the second we got here!" Booth looked like he wanted to hit something, hard.

"Maybe he didn't recognise me," Brennan suggested hopefully.

"Oh, he recognised you all right," Booth countered, thinking back to that scene in the bar and seeing it in a whole new light. "He's been playing us the whole time!"

Dialling another number Booth spoke purposefully. "This is Special Agent Seeley Booth. I need a unit dispatched to the Bellagio and another to this address," he reeled off the details Angela had provided. "Apprehend the suspect but do _not_ question him. I'll be there in thirty, give or take." He hung up, jamming the phone back in his pocket. "Vegas field office," he explained.

"So our undercover work is done?" Brennan asked, falling into step beside her partner as he led the way towards the lifts.

"Looks like," Booth agreed, ignoring the vague feeling of disappointment that evoked. "Listen, we'll go up, get changed, grab our stuff. We should still get there before they bring O'Connor in."

"You think he'll talk?" Bones asked, following him into the lift.

"Definitely," Booth replied, pressing the button for the seventh floor. "This guy won't be able to resist bragging about his work. We use whatever he tells us to find his little workshop of horrors and then we nail him."

"Our evidence is circumstantial," Brennan pointed out. "If he doesn't confess we can hardly charge him on the basis that he asked a question about piranhas in a lecture more than seven years ago."

"He'll confess," Booth said again, striding from the lift. "Change quickly okay," he added, swiping the card to open their door.

Brennan nodded, hurrying forward.

She was halfway across the room before she felt it, a tingling sensation in her legs followed quickly by a warm sensation that shifted into a feeling of unpleasant floating. "Booth," her voice sounded odd in her ears, shaky, uncertain.

"Bones," Booth had been right behind her, the gas hitting his nostrils only seconds later. He couldn't smell it and he couldn't see it but he knew what it was instantly, training and experience both leading him to the conclusion that their room was full of nitrous oxide – laughing gas.

He turned back toward the door but it had closed automatically behind him. He needed to get it open again but first he needed to get to Bones ... grabbing her he put an arm around her, trying to lead her back towards the door.

She stumbled, swallowing back nausea, her eyelids dropping sleepily. "Booth," she said again. "I can't ...," and then she became a dead weight against his side.

He staggered, bracing his legs to take her weight. And then he headed for the door again, breathing shallow. "Don't worry Bones," he mumbled, "I've got you ... I ...," his voice was slurred and indistinct but he knew what he was saying.

The gas was doing its job though and even the great Seeley Booth wasn't immune. Stumbling again he hit the wall, still a few steps away from the door. He still had his arm around Bones and now the two of them slumped down the wall until he was sitting on the floor with her full weight resting against him. He blinked a few times, tried to keep his eyes open but it was no use. He had just enough presence of mind to push a button on his phone, dropping it back into his jacket pocket before unconsciousness overcame him.

* * *

_They really were perfect - he'd known it the instance he'd seen their exchange at check-in. Two people so in love they literally needed the other in order to survive. It didn't matter that they seemed to be in denial - it was there and it was the only truth that mattered. Chris had experienced that once but fate had taken it away. He'd be so close to ending it but then Doctor Temperance Brennan, forensic anthropologist, had shown him the way, had given him a reason to survive ... a purpose. It seemed only fitting that he give her something in exchange - the forever that living seldom delivered._

_It was the least he could do._

**Authors Note:**

Cue sinister music! I wanted to post this chapter last night but turns out I brought a cold back with me from interstate and it's knocked me around a bit, so apologies for the delay. At this stage I don't think I'll be posting tomorrow night, so the next chapter will be Monday night here.

As I get to the business end of this 'episode' of mine I find myself getting more and more nervous that it's all coming together believeably. This chapter was a favourite though ... Booth and Bones dancing ... who can resist that? Acknowledgement to wikipedia for the information on laughing gas - the can't see, can't smell aspects, plus the physical manifestation from breathing it in larger doses all came from research on wiki - apparently a big enough dose can actually kill you. Yeah, 'laughing' gas hardly seems an appropriate label, does it?

So, did you guess who Chris was? (And yes, we now know the who but still not the why ... this will be revealed eventually.) Please, take a few moments to let me know what you think! And as always, thanks for reading.


	13. Restrained

**Chapter 13: Restrained**

"_Love takes off masks that we fear we cannot live without and know we cannot live within." __James Arthur Baldwin._

"That's odd," Cam looked at her cell phone curiously.

"What is?" Hodgins stopped on his way past Cam's workspace.

"What?" Cam glanced up, obviously not having meant her comment for anyone's ears. "Oh, sorry. Booth rang – its connected but he -,"

"Give me that," Hodgins demanded, taking the proffered cell phone and putting it to his ear. "We need Angela," he said suddenly, turning and hurrying towards his wife's office, a puzzled Cam trailing behind. "I need you to trace a call Ange, can you do that?"

"Sure, if I had one of the phones," Angela smiled when Jack held up Cam's cell. "Okay, let's see ...," she moved to her computers, called up a program and then turned to Hodgins. "I don't suppose we know what number the call came from?"

"It's Seeley," Cam said, "or at least I think it is. I answered but -,"

"You think they're in trouble," Angela met her husband's eyes, suddenly very serious.

"I do," Hodgins agreed. "Standard practice, pressing speed dial to keep the line open."

"Right," Angela took a deep breath, pushing past her worry for her friends in order to focus on the task at hand. "Okay, no surprise that the call came from Nevada ... Las Vegas ...,"

"Can you narrow it down?" Hodgins asked.

"Working on it," Angela tapped out additional commands and the map showing the streets of Las Vegas began zooming inwards rapidly until it settled on a single image. "It's the Bellagio ... they're still at the hotel."

"Wait, so there's nothing wrong?" Cam asked in confusion. "It's just a mistake?"

"Booth doesn't make mistakes," Angela turned worried eyes to her husband.

"Call Dr B's number," Hodgins said softly.

Saying nothing, Angela did, pressing the speaker button so they could all hear it ring and ring and ring ... with no answer.

"They're definitely in trouble," Jack put a hand to his wife's shoulder, both support for her and to anchor himself.

"I'll call the FBI," Cam said decisively.

* * *

He woke first, to darkness, cold concrete, and an unconscious woman tied into place on top of him. She was positioned face down to his face up, her chest aligned with his and her head resting on his shoulder. When he felt her breath against his neck the relief was overwhelming.

He could feel the ropes binding him to her, his wrists together low on her back, coils of rope looping around them both at chest and hips, tight enough to restrain but not so tight as to cut off circulation. Tugging at the ropes around his wrists Booth wasn't reassured by the lack of give. Her arms were around his neck so that his head was cushioned on them, again tight but not so tight that she would choke him. Hard as it was to comprehend O'Connor had them restrained too well for Seeley to see a quick solution.

"Bones," he said in a low tone. "Bones – wake up." He jerked his shoulders up from the floor and let them drop again, jostling her roughly. "_Temperance_!"

"Booth?" Hearing the confusion in her voice, Seeley moved quickly to reassure her.

"I'm here," he said, tightening his arms around her waist. "Couldn't tell you where _here_ is but ... you okay?"

"You mean, apart from the fact that we're tied together, it's dark and cold and no one knows where we are?" Brennan summarised their current predicament succinctly with what sounded like minimal emotional distress.

"Yeah, apart from that," he agreed. "Although I did manage to dial Cam's cell before I passed out. Hopefully O'Connor didn't think to check our pockets until after he got us here." It wasn't much of a hope but it was better than the nothing they'd have otherwise. "So, are you okay?"

"I'm not injured," Brennan said after a moment's pause. He could feel her tensing on top of him the instance she realised how intimate their current situation was. "Can you roll?" she asked hopefully.

"Not a chance," he admitted, cataloguing the rest of the details. He'd thought initially that they were on the floor but now he felt the slight incline that raised his head to a greater height than his feet. They were on some kind of concrete platform just off the floor. His legs were restrained individually and it felt like there were additional ropes around his wrists too. His eyes were adjusting to the darkness now, enough that he could make out Bones' outline as she reared up enough to look down at him. "The bastard's got me tied down but good – probably installed this thing just for that purpose. What about you, can you move at all?"

Bones tensed even more and he felt her try to lift herself. "No," she said reluctantly. "My arms appear to be attached with additional ropes to something above our heads."

"Well then ... this is new," Booth said grimly, shifting as much as he could in a vain attempt to resettle the woman on top of him to a slightly less uncomfortable position.

"On the contrary, the scent of dust around us suggests this structure has been here for some time." Her outline shifted above him again as she tried to look around them.

"No Bones," Booth laughed despite their situation. "You and me being trapped together like this. Usually it's me looking for you or vice versa. So ... this is new."

"Yes, but I hardly see how that can be something worthy of comment," Bones replied irritably. "As I indicated to you before I would much prefer for you to be free so that you could apprehend the culprit and release me." She held her body stiffly, her head up as though she were reluctant to settle herself against him, a sure indicator that despite her words she was more than a little uncomfortable with their current situation.

"Relax," Booth's warm breath wafted against her neck.

"I can't," Brennan shot back impatiently. "Resting my entire weight on you can't be comfortable and we don't know how long it will be before Doctor Saroyan and the others locate us. The decreased level of blood circulation in your limbs will seriously hamper your ability to resist, should the killer arrive before we affect a means of escape."

"You're not that heavy," Booth tightened his arms around her, disrupting her tenseness so that her body slumped abruptly to relax fully against him. "I can take it." He said it with conviction but he wasn't sure it was true in reality. Despite the situation he was acutely aware of the parts of her that were pressed against key parts of him. The cushion of her lush breasts against his chest. One of her legs resting between his so that her thigh pressed up against his groin. He could bear her weight indefinitely but he wasn't sure he had the control to stop his body from reacting to their physical proximity, especially once the initial adrenalin rush of their situation wore off. "_Don't go there soldier_," he told himself firmly. They were restrained and in grave danger and he really shouldn't have found her closeness such a turn on. "_Man, you have it bad Seeley Joseph Booth_," he thought.

"Booth?" Brennan's voice was uncertain as she broke the silence.

"Yeah?" Booth wished he had his hands free so that he could push the hair back from her face, run a comforting caress down her back.

"This is embarrassing, isn't it?" Brennan questioned. "Us getting captured like this? I'm a world renowned forensic anthropologist and author and you are the best field agent the FBI has. We really should have been better than this."

"It's not your fault," Booth said grimly, angry at himself. "I should have anticipated this from the moment we worked out O'Connor knew you. I relaxed my guard before we confirmed that he'd been taken into custody. I'm sorry Bones."

"_We_ should have anticipated," Bones corrected him firmly. She was quiet for a few moments. "I don't understand," she admitted.

"Don't understand what?" Booth frowned, trying to work out what track her thoughts had taken.

"Why like this?" Brennan said simply, finally resting her head on his chest so that her lips brushed his neck as she spoke. "O'Connor has a specific pattern Booth and he never deviates. If he wanted to get rid of us to protect himself he wouldn't do it like this. It's like, even though he knew who we were, he still picked us to be this year's victims. But ... it's the wrong day and we're the wrong couple." She didn't add what they were both thinking - that O'Connor intended to keep them tied up for the next twenty four hours until it was the _right _day.

"You want to talk about this now?" Booth's tone was part complaint and part challenge**. **"We're trussed up together like Christmas turkey and you want to argue that the guy made a mistake?" he asked incredulously.

"There's a chance we're about to die because this killer was wrong about us, so yes I want to talk about it now!" Brennan insisted irritably, raising her head and probably glaring down at him.

"He didn't make a mistake Bones," Booth said simply.

"Yes he did," Brennan gave a stubborn little wriggle that pressed her leg more firmly against him and had him groaning low in his throat.

"Could you maybe cut down on the movements there Bones?" he asked uncomfortably. If there was more light she would have seen the way his skin flushed as embarrassment swept over him.

"What?" Bones froze. "Oh ... sorry," she said weakly, shifting her leg away as much as she could.

"Thank you," Booth smiled even though he knew she couldn't see him clearly. "You really believe O'Connor made a mistake choosing us to be this year's sick little tribute to love?" he asked his partner curiously. God, was he insane? Feeling the need to defend that choice even though it meant they were scheduled to die.

"Of course!" Bones returned emphatically. "We don't fit the profile ... I'm much older than his other female victims and our relative heights would make it extremely difficult for him to entwine our skeletons as he did his prior victims. Even knowing we were on to him he shouldn't have done this."

"Can you not talk about our skeletons like that," Booth shuddered, instinctively tightening his arms around her.

"I said _would,_ not will," Bones reiterated. "Doctor Hodgins will find us long before the killer gets the chance."

"Right, good to know," Booth relaxed a little even though he couldn't see how exactly Hodgins was going to find them. He had faith in the squint squad but this was too far outside their usual cases. Besides, the head squint was with him instead of back at the lab noticing something crucial that would save them. "So that's it, that's why you think he made a mistake with us?"

"Yes, that and the fact that we have no intention of eloping and aren't in love with each other, all of which O'Connor knows," Bones summarised. "Even if he were targeting me specifically and required the concept of romantic love in order to commit the crime it would have been more symbolic for him to have taken Angela and Doctor Hodgins, although I find myself feeling relieved he didn't."

"So let me get this straight," Booth felt the annoyance rising inside and for once decided not to beat it back into submission. "You're quite okay believing that Hodgins and Angela have 'true love' even though as a general rule you don't believe love even exists?"

"I believe that Doctor Hodgins and Angela believe they're in love and that the killer would therefore believe it too, yes," Brennan explained.

"So O'Connor is just as foolish as the rest of us," Booth concluded sarcastically. "Because of course if _you _don't believe something then it isn't true, all evidence to the contrary!"

"I don't know why you're angry," Brennan shot back irritably. "What evidence is there that this true love you keep mentioning even exists?"

"You want evidence?" Booth shot back grimly. "Fine." Even in the darkness his lips unerringly found hers. He kissed her like he never had before, not during their investigation, not even the night he'd pleaded with her to take a chance on them. Then as always he'd been worried about pushing her too far, too fast - worried that she'd run somewhere he couldn't follow. But she'd already done that, retreated halfway across the world to get away from him and what he represented and he'd found that he _could _survive. Not to the point of forgetting her, not enough that he could move on, but enough to still make something of his life. Besides, they were bound together and as far as they knew no one aside from a psychotic serial killer knew where they were - in the face of that, kissing her like he'd always meant to was hardly a risk.

She froze for a moment but his passion and determination must have broken through the walls she'd built between them because abruptly she was kissing him back just as desperately. He poured his heart into the endeavour, did everything he could to show her the difference between a kiss driven by physical desire and one driven by emotion, by a love so great he knew he'd never get over it. They consumed each other ... no, _devoured_, like two animals who'd been starved and then let loose to feed in frenzy. It was deep and it was hot ... she was making him so hot he felt it all the way to his core. He spaced out for a few minutes, lost in the woman he'd loved for years and dreamed constantly of kissing like he was kissing her now. At first it was beyond erotic that he could only express his desires with his lips but eventually the emergence of other needs, to touch, caress, explore, and the resulting jerking of his arms against the restraints had him returning to reality with a crash. He tore his mouth from hers and rested his head back against her arms, breathing hard.

He wished he could see her expression, put emotions to the way her body shifted with every frantic breath she took, wished he knew what the hell to say to make this all right.

"That didn't prove anything," Brennan said eventually, still struggling to get her breath back.

"God, you are the stubbornness, most infuriating woman I've ever known!" Booth shot back. "Don't even mention the word 'intercourse' or try to tell me that was driven by a need to satisfy biological urges or so help me I'll ... I'll ... I don't know but it won't be pleasant!"

"I just don't -," Brennan began.

"No," Booth interrupted forcefully. "_Enough_. You don't get to control this one Temperance. I _swore_ to myself that I wouldn't do this again but hell, given where we are right now it hardly matters." He was angry and it came out in his words, made them sound like a curse as much as a declaration. "I 'true' love you okay, like Angela and Jack, like every one of those couples O'Connor destroyed the past seven years. I love you and you know what? You love me too. You can put whatever the hell label you want on it but I've seen it, I've _felt _it. You're just too damned scared to admit it. Look it up Bones - true love is _never _one sided and I know, with everything in me, that's what this is."

"But ... you said you were going to move on," Bones' voice trembled and as she shifted her head away he felt the hint of wetness brush his skin. Was she crying? "I told you I couldn't change and you said you had to find someone who could love you into the future."

"I _know_ what I said," Booth retorted grimly, "but what the hell did you expect? You crushed me, okay? I had to say something because I knew that if I kept pushing you, you'd leave. Turns out you did anyway," he laughed harshly. "I wanted to fight for you but I had Sweets' voice in my head telling me to tread carefully so I didn't. I was hurt ... I had to let it go."

"I don't understand," Bones whispered. "I was sure whatever delusions you were operating under were resolved during our year apart. You changed Booth - even I could see it. You seemed calmer ... more resolved."

"Hey, I was never deluded, okay," Seeley protested. "Not even in my coma dream - that just brought to the surface everything I already knew. The whole time in Afghanistan I knew it too and you know, _accepted_. There will never be anyone else for me but you."

"You can't know that Booth," Bones cried. "No one can."

"I _can_," he insisted. Kissing her again, tasting the salt of tears on her lips, had the emotions rising in his own eyes. "I can know it Temperance," he repeated between kisses. "I do. You've spoiled me for any other woman and I am resigned to occupying whatever part of your life I can. That's why I've been more relaxed about all this since I got back. I love you okay ... it's as simple as that."

"No," Bones protested forcefully. She began tugging frantically at the ropes binding her arms above them, her laboured breathing harsh in the silence surrounding them. "No Booth," she said again, her efforts becoming more urgent. He felt it in every cell of his body – her distress, her need to break free, to avoid a truth she just didn't want to accept. He felt it and strangely he didn't take it personally even though the potential for her reaction to hurt him was certainly there. He wasn't hurt though, because right then it was more about her than it was about him and that was a place he hadn't been the first time he'd asked her to take a chance on them.

"Bones, stop!" He reared up with her, speaking close to her ear as she continued tugging forcefully on the ropes. "You're gonna hurt youself. _Stop_!"

Abruptly she went still, resting her head back against his chest as though she were suddenly too weary to hold it up any more.

"I don't expect anything from you," he said gently. "I _don't_. But the truth is important to you, right? We always said no secrets between partners ... this is just ... it's a secret I can't keep any more Bones. It doesn't change anything. We're still partners, we'll still work together. Nothing is different today than it was yesterday, or a month ago, or year ago, okay?"

"How can you _say_ that Booth?" Bones sounded angry now. "You can't just declare that I've ruined any hope for you to make future romantic connections and expect me to just accept that! You can't tell me how I feel and then casually move on like it means nothing!"

"I know you want to hit me with a host of logical reasons to refute everything I said but there's no point," Booth said with certainty. "You said it yourself – you're the brain person and I'm the heart person Bones. Trust me to know my own heart. Trust me to know yours." He sighed, squeezing her as tightly as his bound arms would allow. "I made a mistake that night Bones ... I let you think that you needed to change. I gave you reason to doubt instead of saying what I should have – that I see you, the _real _Temperance Brennan - what you're willing to show the world and what you keep hidden inside. That's the person that I love, more than anything."

* * *

The entire situation just wouldn't do. Brennan couldn't organise her thoughts – the darkness, the intimacy and danger of their situation, Booth's words delivered with such certainty and resolve. She didn't know what to think, what to feel and it had her stumbling blindly from the moment Booth stated that O'Connor hadn't made a mistake choosing them. Booth's declaration hit her hard - she felt confused and scared and panicky and not at all like her usual self. She couldn't find her rational surface - he'd stripped it away and left her vulnerable to emotions she was still struggling to understand.

"But _why_?" she cried, the turmoil inside enough for her to finally ask the question she'd held back for so long. "Why Booth? I'm cold and too rational and I have difficulty picking up even the simplest of emotions in others. I always say and do the wrong thing and I never understand any of your references, no matter how much you try to teach me. I'm afraid of the stupidest things, things other people take for granted and I know I embarrass you, all the time, just by being me. You continually have to step in and fix my social missteps. I just, I don't know how to be anyone else. I need to rationalise, I need the world to be the way logic says it should be, because if it's not then how can I survive Booth? How?"

"God Bones, I'm sorry," Booth nuzzled his head close to hers and spoke directly beside her ear, the rumbling of his voice sending shivers down her body. "I _never _wanted you to change - never. You're ... captivating, unique, so interesting and so damn _smart _you make my head spin sometimes. I am proud that I get to be your partner. You care, _deeply _- about the victims, the families. They're not just case files to you and you put a part of yourself into every one of them. Maybe you don't express that caring the way other people would but your way is better - to the point. You're enough Temperance Brennan, more than enough, just the way you are. You just have to trust me on that okay?"

"I can't Booth," Bones sobbed. The darkness created an illusion of protection that made it easier for her to express herself ... because she didn't have to see his sadness, see him retreat from her once he realised that she was right. "I want to but I can't ... I can't be the person you need."

"You already are," Booth said simply. "You said I needed protecting from you but you're wrong. What I need is for you to stop thinking you can control decisions I've already made and just make one of your own. Forget about what you think I need for a moment and just tell me what _you_ want Bones. Why can't you do that?"

"Because you'll wake up one day and realise you made a mistake," Brennan tugged at the rope binding her wrists emphatically and then gave a cry when it broke abruptly, jerking her back harshly against Booth's head. "Sorry," she said.

"You could kiss it better," he suggested teasingly, probably not expecting that she would. She smiled, dropping a too brief kiss on his forehead before raising her head again.

"Why did you go to the Maluku Islands?" Booth asked out of the blue.

"I'm an anthropologist," Bones was trying to bend her arms enough to get them clear of Booth but now that she'd broken the rope she'd lost her leverage. Sprawled on top of her partner she couldn't brace against anything and after a few moments of trying and ending up feeling like a beetle on its back she gave into her frustration and slumped back against his chest.

"That's it - you're an anthropologist?" Booth drew her attention back to his question.

"The discovery of a new hominid species is the greatest advance in my field in some time," Brennan explained. "It would have severely impacted on my career not to be a part of that."

"Your career ... as an FBI consultant and bestselling author," Booth said carefully. Before she could respond he continued. "Because it seemed to me that you didn't consider actually going until _after _I showed you that letter from the President."

"The two events occurred concurrently," Bones prevaricated.

"You didn't want to be here without me," Booth told her what they both already knew. "You knew I'd have to take that post before I did and you didn't want me leaving you behind. You arranged everything so that you could leave first - you took the year contract instead of signing up for the duration because that's how long I was going to be away. Admit it Bones."

"I ... maybe ...," Brennan sighed into the darkness. "You know I have no desire to work with any other FBI agent but you. It made logical sense to pursue other avenues rather than face a continual argument over my involvement during your absence. I judged that a year away would be sufficient time to regain my perspective on the value of our work together."

"I refused to see how hard it was on you," Booth sighed. "Sometimes I wonder whether bringing you into all of this was the right thing. You wouldn't have suffered any of that - the grave digger, Epps - none of it would have happened if I'd never approached you."

"And all of the people we've identified would still be lost, all of the murderers we've put behind bars would still be out there," Brennan said simply. "It didn't take twelve months for me to appreciate that despite the fact that murder continues, that I can't prevent what should be preventable, what we do has real value. I wouldn't have come back unless I was sure of that. I don't regret my choice Booth."

"And I'll never regret mine," Booth said with conviction.

"Our success rate would make that illogical," Brennan agreed.

"No, not the decision to bring you in to consult with me," Booth countered, "although that was inspired, if I say so myself." He grinned. "No, what I don't regret is finally accepting how I feel about you, about us. You need to understand that I'm not gonna change my mind about this."

"I don't know what you expect from me," Brennan heard the slight edge of whining in her voice but couldn't stop herself. She felt under pressure to admit to things, to agree to things because their circumstances were dire. Her confidence that somehow they'd get out, that Doctor Hodgins and the others would find them before it was too late cautioned her not to make promises she feared she wouldn't be able to keep.

"You know exactly what I expect Temperance," Booth didn't let her get away with anything and that frustrated her too. She almost missed the Booth who'd back down and let her keep her illusions, even though this more forceful version excited and intrigued her on a different level.

She was silent for a few moments, her thoughts circling around the issues before she made a decision. "If I admit that perhaps I do have some level of feeling for you beyond partnership and agree to talk about it once this case is resolved, will you let it go for now?"

"'_Perhaps'_? _'Some level of feeling_'?," Booth repeated, sounding amused. "You're overwhelming me here Bones."

"Booth," Brennan would have whacked him one if she could have.

"I accept your terms," Booth agreed in a low serious tone.

She should have expected the kiss that followed but he'd captivated her before she could blink. Maybe she could have made it difficult, reared back beyond his reach, but she didn't want to. If only to herself she admitted that Booth had finally shown her that there _was_ a difference between kissing as foreplay for a physical union and kissing driven by emotions. If she were being fanciful she would have added that love _was _something you could communicate through a physical connection because Booth was communicating it to her right then and for once she was listening.

**Authors Note:**

I apologise for not replying to reviews for the last chapter - thank you to everyone who reviewed, I really appreciated the support and enjoyed reading your reactions. I decided you'd much rather have another chapter than have me delay because I'm too tired to do both.

It would make my day if you took a moment to let me know your reactions to this chapter ... thanks for reading!


	14. Apprehended

**Chapter 14: Apprehended**

_"Love is the expansion of two natures in such fashion that each include the other, each is enriched by the other." Felix Adler_

"Can we narrow down their location any further?" Cam asked Angela. She'd reported their concerns to Agent Burns at the FBI who'd assured her he'd get someone over to the Bellagio to check on their absent friends. That should have been enough to reassure them but ... it was Brennan and Booth and it didn't sit well with any of them to wait idly for news. The timing didn't sit well with Cam either – they'd called in the name of a possible suspect and then less than an hour later Booth's call had come in and they'd subsequently lost touch? She's like to think otherwise but that didn't feel like a coincidence to the forensic pathologist.

"Not from here," Angela admitted. "If we were at the Bellagio then maybe I could get a better indicator."

"Then let's go to the Bellagio," Hodgins suggested matter-of-factly.

"It'll take hours to get there," Angela pointed out.

"I know, I know – and anything could happen while we're in the air, but it's better than sitting around here doing nothing," Jack gave his wife a hopeful look.

"Okay," Angela stood, intent on doing just that.

"Hold on," Cam held up a hand imploringly. "Let's just take a step back here. Until we hear back from the FBI we don't even know if there is a problem. We'll all look more than a little foolish if we rush in there and find Booth and Doctor Brennan enjoying a little downtime."

"You think that's all it is?" Angela looked hopeful, for more than the obvious reasons. "You think Booth finally cracked and dragged Brennan off to have his wicked way with her?"

"I think we're speculating," Cam said in a reasonable tone, "in the absence of hard fact. Although – nice image Angela." The two women shared a 'girly' mischevious smile. "Let me call the FBI again first, see if they've located our missing colleagues. Then we can make decisions about what to do next."

Getting reluctant nods from her team – sometimes she really did feel like she was running a camp for gifted adolescents – Cam moved to Angela's phone and made the call.

"Agent Burns, this is Doctor Camille Saroyan from the Jeffersonian," she began. "I have some anxious people here wondering if you managed to locate Special Agent Booth or Doctor Brennan." She listened for several moments, nodding, her expression giving nothing away. "Okay, thank you."

Putting the phone back on the cradle she paused, took a visible steadying breath and then looked up at her waiting audience. "Agents from the local field office were already at the hotel because Booth called in a team to arrest Christian O'Connor. There was no sign of him, or of Booth or Doctor Brennan. Not only were they not in their room but all their belongings where gone. When they asked back at the front desk they were told Booth checked them out this morning."

"Oh my god!" Angela looked horrified. "He's got them ... the killer – it's the only explanation."

"I'm inclined to agreed," Cam said simply.

"So, we're going, right?" Hodgins looked at Cam expectantly.

"Oh yes, we certainly are," Cam agreed grimly.

* * *

Much as Booth wanted to keep the intimacy with Bones going, the part of him that was FBI agent first everything else second had already been impatiently jumping up and down for attention since he'd woken to their current predicament. They'd been unconscious for who knew how long – he wasn't sure how long they'd been awake for either, the darkness and the topic of conversation itself having the potential to seriously warp his sense of time passing.

Pressing a final, firm kiss to Bones' lips, he dropped his head back to rest against her arms again. "The sooner we get out of here the sooner we can have that little chat," he told her casually, not missing the way she tensed a little. "_Yeah, you don't mind the physical stuff but talking emotions isn't going to come easy,_" he thought, knowing the battle was nowhere near won yet. Temperance Brennan loved him though ... he had no doubt about that. No, what he doubted was that she'd be able to believe in herself, in _him_, enough to want to do something with it. "_No point in borrowing trouble_," he thought, pushing those worries to the side for the time being.

"You have an idea?" her voice was back to that logical, matter-of-fact tone she often used.

"Yeah," Booth grimaced. "I'm going to suggest something with completely innocent intentions okay."

"What is it?"

Bones sounded suspicious and he didn't blame her ... usually when someone led in with a declaration of innocence it was because they were anything but. He'd tried to come up with something else but they had nothing – no conveniently hidden knife or handy sharp edged object to help them. All they had was the unique arrangement of ropes O'Connor had used – all part of the 'two as one' romance theme he had going. Time to use that against him.

"From what I can tell O'Connor looped these ropes around us, rather than going lengthwise or between us," Booth began. "I'm fully restrained here but now you've broken that rope they're the only thing holding _you _in one place. It you can manage to get your arms clear you might be able to -"

"Shimmy my way down your body and get past the ropes around our shoulders," Brennan finished. "Booth, that's very insightful."

"I try," Booth grinned. "So, can you do it?"

"Of course," Brennan returned confidently, her physical capabilities something she never doubted. She began shifting immediately; rocking back and forth to create the space she needed to raise herself high enough to be able to lift her outstretched arms over his head.

Booth raised his head from the floor to help, ending up with a face full of lush female breast. Inhaling her scent he grinned again, despite the fact that it was totally inappropriate given the situation.

"Are you ... scenting me?" Brennan's voice was tight with the effort she was making to move inside ropes that left her very little room.

"Hey, I'm only a man," Booth said unapologetically. "And you know, when the woman you love drops her very pretty breasts in your face it's kind of implied that you'll _enjoy _the experience."

"Okay," Bones agreed as though it made perfect sense, causing him to laugh weakly. She kept going with the slow, gradual upward progress ... a slow torture that had Booth wishing he'd come up with a different plan. And not just because of the physical intimacy.

"I don't want to rush you here Bones but we don't know how long we've got until O'Connor comes back to, you know, finish the job," Booth said. "Can you pick up the pace a little?"

"I'm almost there," she told him intently, still rocking.

"Yeah, you and me both honey," he said under his breath, shifting uncomfortably as her lower leg rubbed in places he really didn't need it rubbing. This wasn't just a bad idea ... it had to be _the_ worst idea he'd ever had.

With a grunt of effort Brennan managed to wrench her arms over Booth's head through the tight gap in the ropes around her wrists and arms, sending her partners skull crashing to the concrete platform.

"Ow!" He yelled, groaning loudly. "A little warning before you throw my head to the ground next time Bones!"

"Since it's unlikely we'll ever be bound together in this configuration again I think I can safely agree to that," Brennan replied blandly. Where before she'd wriggled upwards now she reversed it, keeping her arms stretched up above her head and undulating her lower body to create movement inside the loops of ropes around both their bodies.

"I have died and gone to hell," Booth muttered, stifling the groan that wanted to surge up from deep inside as she kept the torture going for way too long ... each individual minute feeling like an eternity. Damn she was flexible ... limber ... not to mention warm and soft in all the right places.

"Stop complaining, this was your idea," Bones' voice was muffled as her face pressed into his chest. This time she was the one to pause and take a deep, appreciative breath. "Did I ever tell you that you smell really nice?"

"Ah, no ... no, you didn't," Booth swallowed nervously, wondering how long it would be before she realised just how arousing he found her admission to be. It was either that or the way she was pressing down on him and then raising up and then pressing down and then up again ... over and over and ... "Stop!" he tightened his arms around her abruptly, just at the point where her face rested on his abdomen.

"What?" He felt her head shift as she looked up at him and was suddenly glad for the darkness that could hide his expression even it if couldn't hide how fast he was breathing. "Booth?"

"Just ... I feel the need at this point to apologise," Seeley began. "It's ah ... you're gonna be travelling pretty close to ah ... you know, the family jewels there Bones and ...," he gave up trying to explain the evidence ... _hard_ evidence he could already feel expanding in his pants without actually using the words erection or worse. "It's dark," he muttered defensively. "And you're, you know ... _hot_ and you smell, man _amazing_ and I really, _really_, love you and ... it's dark ..."

"Booth," Brennan's calm voice interrupted him.

"What?"

"It's a perfectly natural biological reaction," she told him matter-of-factly. "I don't mind ... in fact I find it very flattering that you feel some desire for me even in our current circumstances."

"Well then, I'm glad I could help," Booth got out, struggling between smiling and groaning loudly when he felt her nod before she started up the undulating thing again, her shoulders now clear of the first set of ropes.

"It's lucky that your shoulder width exceeds mine by such a large margin," Brennan commented, continuing her downward track. "O'Connor may have more than a passing grasp of forensic anthropology but his knowledge of physics is lacking."

"Yeah, how so?" Booth queried, glad for anything to distract him from what she was doing to him.

"The points of contact holding these ropes in place are unevenly distributed," Bones explained. "The widest points of any restraint are what keep it in place. Anything inside the restraint of lesser width could be removed from within the circumference with relative ease, if the potential for upward movement exists."

"Like different sized sticks tied in a bunch," Booth commented.

"Exactly," Booth heard the smile in her voice and felt like a student who'd made his teacher proud. "It is only the sticks on the outside of the stack that provide the holding force for all the others, thus any one of the innermost sticks can be removed with relative ease. Your shoulders and hips are much wider than my own -"

"Making me the outer sticks and you the inside ones," Booth concluded smugly.

"Yes," Bones' voice was muffled as her face pressed just below his rib cage. "Instead of anchoring all but my wrist restraints to you O'Connor should have at the very least tied my legs independent of yours as well."

"His mistake, our gain," Booth got out, feeling his already low comfort level dip even lower as Bones continued her movements. Her breasts were pressed against his groin now and if she'd been in doubt before about his desire for her she wasn't anymore. "God," he shifted his lower body, sucking in his breath and pressing back into the concrete in an effort to give her more space. "Is it hot in here?" he swallowed hard.

"On the contrary the temperature is well below what would ordinarily be comfortable for our level of attire," Bones replied. "Physical exertion can lend an additional few degrees to body temperature, as it has here."

"Right, that must be it," Booth agreed quickly, ignoring the fact that she was the one exerting while he just lay there trying not to think about how much he wished she was pressed against him this intimately for all the _right_ reasons.

It was the most excruciatingly painfully uncomfortable and at the same time stimulating experience he'd ever had with a partner while remaining completely clothed - and it couldn't be over soon enough to suit him. Finally Bones manoeuvred herself past the now blaringly obvious bulge in his pants, clearing the rope around their waist.

"Oh, thank you Lord!" he exclaimed, waiting impatiently for her to undo the ropes around their legs.

She was up and kneeling beside him, concentrating on the ropes tying him to what turned out to be four metal loops concreted into the platform moments later. It was difficult in the darkness, even with their adjusted eyesight, but eventually she'd untied them all. He returned the favour by untying the remaining restraints at her wrists. Their hands collided as she moved to help him shift all the rope from his own body. And then they were standing and he was holding her really tightly, burying his face in her hair. She didn't seem to mind, wrapping her arms around him and holding on just as tightly.

"Bones, I meant every word I said before. Every word," he muttered, squeezing her even tighter and just breathing her in.

"I know Booth," her voice trembled with emotion, her hold on him turning desperate for a few moments. "I know."

"Right," he squeezed her one last time and then stepped back, taking her hand and turning to assess what their next course of action should be. "There's some light coming in from over there," he raised their still joined hands and pointed to their right. "Let's check it out."

* * *

Doctor Jack Hodgins might not live the life of a multi-million dollar heir to a vast corporate empire but there were times when he freely admitted it came in handy. Like right then, when he and the team from the Jeffersonian where ensconced in the back of a Westland Lynx helicopter doing in excess of 250 miles per hour in a straight line flight from DC to Vegas. Even with the specially designed high-speed rotor blades the trip across the country had taken more than six hours. Booth's cell phone call to Cam had been disengaged soon after they'd decided to make the trip and everyone had deliberately not said it - that it might have been cut off for the worst possible reason.

"This is awesome," Wendell commented for the fiftieth time since they'd taken off. He was leaning close to the window, watching the ground below passing by in a blur of greens and browns.

"You do take the cake, Jack Stanley Hodgins the Fourth," Angela commented in a low tone, kissing his cheek.

"Hey, not just the cake baby," he shot back. "The _whole _bakery."

"I'm sure Doctor Brennan and Booth will be grateful as well," Cam agreed. "Any ideas on how we're going to locate them. From what I know the Bellagio is one of the larger hotels in Vegas. The sun will be up by the time we get there which gives us less than a day to find them."

"I've got that covered too," Hodgins grinned, reaching for the folder he'd brought with him and had been studying for most of the flight. "I took the liberty of acquiring the original plans for the hotel, along with a list of all the touring shows they've hosted there over the past ten years."

"You're thinking about the fencing sword?" Wendell narrowed his eyes thoughtfully.

"Where does a guy who studied anthropology and works as a lowly desk clerk get the resources to acquire an antique weapon that would be worth a small fortune?" Hodgins posed the question but then moved to answer it himself, holding up a printed black and white advertisement. "Answer, he doesn't. Why buy your own when you can just borrow the one the hotel already owns?"

"The Magic and Movie Hall of Fame," Angela read aloud.

"Right," Jack nodded approvingly. "The largest collection of magic and movie memorabilia anywhere, valued at over four and a half million dollars."

"How does that help us?" Cam asked. "Even if the killer stole the weapon used in all the murders from this collection it's unlikely to lead us to Booth and Doctor Brennan."

"Au contraire," Hodgins smiled, obviously pleased with himself. "The hall of fame isn't located at the Bellagio but they never display all the items owned by the collection at the one time. When they're not on display they're stored at the originating hotel. In the case of the Bellagio that would include the tools of one Master Coulé – it's a fencing term that describes an attack or feint that slides along the opponent's blade. Coulé specialized in sword work – very popular over a decade ago."

"And you think that the murder weapon is one of this Coulé props?" Wendell looked at the other scientist hopefully.

"He used a mix of real and doctored weapons, gave the show a level of authenticity and risk," Hodgins explained.

"I guess if it's the best lead we have right now we'll just have to run with it," Cam said, clearly disappointed they didn't have more to go on.

Angela knew her husband well and her eyes were already trained on him when he got that smug, 'king of the lab' look on his face. "It's not the best lead," she deduced.

"Cam's right – finding the murder weapon won't necessarily lead us to Dr B and Booth," he admitted. "So no, that's not the best part. That would be the props used in one of the acts that opened when the hotel did in 1998. 'Reconstructing Houdini'. It was an escapologist act that reproduced all the great man's escapes, including the Chinese Water Torture Cell."

"Is that the one where Houdini hung upside down in a tank full of water?" Angela asked.

"That's the one," Jack grinned. "The real tank was destroyed in a fire in 1995 so they created another one. The reproduction tank held almost 800 gallons of water and -,"

"And currently resides in storage at the Bellagio," Cam concluded.

"Indeed. From what I can find out it's been collecting dust since the show closed in 2001. We find that tank presumably housing our killer's school of flesh eating piranhas and with any luck it will lead us to Booth and Doctor B," Hodgins concluded.

"Not bad Hodgins, not bad," Cam smiled.

"And not a mention of dirt anywhere," Angela teased. Before he could protest the inaccuracy of that term she was leaning in to kiss him. "I do love you Doctor Hodgins," she declared, her eyes sparkling with emotion.

"That's lucky, because I love you too Mrs Hodgins," he declared in return, kissing her back.

"How long do you think it will take for them to get sick of that?" Wendell asked Cam.

"I have no idea but I wouldn't hold your breath," Cam replied, smiling fondly at her still oblivious friends.

When the pilot announced that they'd be landing on the roof of the Bellagio in a few minutes they all felt the relief and the rush of adrenalin as each prepared to do what they'd come so far for. Find and rescue their friends.

* * *

"Do you think this is where O'Connor kills his victims?" Brennan asked. She'd spoken in a low voice but still it sounded too loud in the oppressive silence. They'd been walking slowly for a while, clearing that dark, cold room and entering a corridor that so far hadn't revealed a way out.

They were still holding hands – at first it had been necessary because it had still been dark and they'd needed to keep close but when that changed neither of them had let go. Brennan took comfort from the contact, from every instance of Booth squeezing her hand reassuringly, despite the fact that it made no logical sense to do so. "I'd say that's more than likely," he agreed.

"You're thinking the same thing I am, aren't you?"

"What, that we're still at the hotel?" Booth queried, not surprised she'd come to the same conclusion. It was there, in the pipes that lined the ceilings, the signs that pointed to things like the electrical room or maintenance, and just something internal inside each of them that knew they hadn't gone far, that not enough time had passed to get them anywhere remote. "I'd guess there are plenty of rooms down here no one's been in for years. It wouldn't be hard for an employee of the hotel to get access and for a killer as smart as this guy seems to be it would be irresistible to claim a space that no one can link back to him."

"And clever too since no one would think to look for a missing couple at the place they disappeared from," Brennan added.

"Cam and Hodgins are smarter than the average law enforcement officer," Booth assured her. "Angela would have traced my call so they'll know we're still at the hotel."

"If O'Connor didn't find your phone before they could do so," Brennan pointed out.

"No point in being negative Bones," Booth told her. "I haven't finally gotten you to agree to talk seriously about us only to have a psycho killer ruin it for me."

"I -," Brennan broke off when they turned a corner and arrived at a closed door. They had no choice - either to go through it or turn back the way they'd come.

Booth grabbed the handle and turned it slowly. "It's open," he murmured in a low tone. "Get behind me."

She would have protested that order but feared it would both distract her partner and potentially alert anyone who might be in that room before they could be taken by surprise. Letting go of Booth's hand she moved to stand at his back, determined to back him up.

Booth slowly pushed the door open a crack, peering inside. After a few moments he opened it wider, motioning for Brennan to follow him.

It was dark inside ... all Temperance could make out were weirdly shaped shadows looming all around them and the sense of clutter, the absence of space.

"Wait here," Booth left her side, quietly shutting the door and plunging the room back into complete darkness.

"Booth?" she called softly, disconcerted.

"Hang on," his voice came from behind her and she swivelled around just as the lights suddenly blazed to life, stabbing at her eyes.

"Holy ...," Booth's voice trailed off as they both got a good look at what surrounded them.

A large coloured box on a rolling table. A collection of mirrors that reflected back the array of items around them. Capes, scarves, masks, colourful costumes hanging on a wardrobe rack. Wooden chests, big and small. And on the walls a number of swords of various types displayed prominently, the way their blades shone in the light suggesting they were maintained regularly.

"Booth," Brennan drew his attention to a distinctively thin blade that took up pride of place in the centre of the display.

"I see it," he said grimly. Walking forward he passed through the mirrors and stopped abruptly. "Bones," he glanced back at her, his expression that mix of worry and distaste she was more used to seeing when they first arrived at a murder scene.

"What is it?" She moved to join him, stopping just as suddenly as he had as she saw what had captivated him. Before them was a large metal structure, taller than Booth and half as wide. Inside the metal was a glass tank ... full of water and inhabited by hundreds of sharp teethed menacing looking fish. They cruised around the tank, hugging the glass before skimming away ... maybe they were just fish but they were more than a little creepy too, with their fixed gazes, beady eyes, and mysteriously in sync movements.

"This is bad," Booth muttered. "When it was just another squint theory of Hodgins' it was bad enough but the reality? This guy is one sick bastard."

"Come now Agent Booth, there's no need to be insulting."

Booth and Brennan spun around to confront the owner of that voice.

One Christian Michael O'Connor. Front desk clerk for the Bellagio and recently confirmed psycho serial killer and 'sick bastard'.

"This is very bad," Booth murmured, exchanging glances with Bones.

**Authors Note:**

Fanfic wouldn't let me do anything last night so excuse the unavoidable delay. For this chapter I used wiki for research - magic stuff mostly, plus the helicopter (a real one, fastest recorded helicopter, from helis dot com), Bellagio history, Houdini escapes, and volume/distance calculations where required. Check out the wiki 'Chinese_water_torture_cell' page if you want to see an old picture of the Houdini escape. I made up the magic acts though.

I've been too slow editing again tonight to the point it's now 2.30am and I haven't done review replies _again _(I WILL get to them as soon as I can, I promise) ... so once again thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, it was very interesting seeing what you said about that one and I really appreciate the wealth of support! I look forward to reactions to this latest chapter too! We're cruising up to the ending now!


	15. Confrontation

**Chapter 15: Confrontation**

"_Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defences, you build up a whole suit of armour, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love." Neil Gaiman._

"I must admit that you impress me," Chris commented casually. He shifted forward, making the gun in his hand very apparent to both members of his audience. "While I considered that there was a slim chance of escaping those ropes I really didn't think anyone could do it, and certainly not as quickly as you two did."

"It's not just that you underestimated us O'Connor," Booth had instinctively moved to stand in front of his partner, focussed on protecting her as much as he was on getting them out of this. "You underestimated our team too. They've got the evidence to pin fourteen murders on you, regardless of what you do here." He smiled grimly. "I'm pretty sure at least one of those victims lived somewhere with the death penalty – should be a breeze to get an extradition order. A guy like you, preying on innocent young couples in love? The authorities will be lining up to prosecute."

"You found one of my tributes," Chris murmured, his gaze focussed inwards although his gun hand never wavered. "I knew it would happen one day."

"We found more than one but I'd hardly call them tributes," Booth's eyes narrowed as he considered their next move. They needed to keep O'Connor talking – without a weapon of his own Seeley couldn't guarantee that the guy wouldn't get a shot off before he could take him down in a physical battle. The risk of Bones being hit was too great; he needed to even the odds a little, any way he could. "In fact I'm pretty sure we have the couple that started this for you. Stephen Marshall and Jane Woods. You knew them, particularly her, right? Just not as ... intimately as you would have liked."

"_Booth_," Bones whispered, shifting a little to see better, the question in her voice clearly understandable. Booth reached for her hand behind his back, out of O'Connor's view. When she took it he squeezed reassuringly. It was a 'don't worry, I know what I'm doing' signal he knew wouldn't placate her for long. Looking at O'Connor intently, Booth continued. "Is that why you killed Jane? Because she didn't want you?"

"What did you _do_?" O'Connor's benevolent facade cracked a little as he ignored Booth's question, showing a chillingly aggressive demeanour underneath.

"The remains were transferred to the Jeffersonian," Bones spoke before Booth could, moving to stand fully beside him. "We used a solvent to dissolve the adhesive and -,"

"_You separated them_?" Chris snarled, his eyes shooting daggers at Bones.

''Of course," she said matter-of-factly, unflinching as she looked at O'Connor like he was a source of intellectual curiosity rather than the dangerous killer they knew him to be. "We removed the female victims in each case and reconstructed their separate skeletons."

"Step away from Agent Booth, Doctor," O'Connor's voice was ice.

"Bones," Booth held on to her hand firmly, glaring at O'Connor. Bones wasn't looking at him, all her attention focussed on their assailant.

"Do as I say Doctor Brennan," Chris insisted, raising his gun and pointing it right at Booth. "I will shoot your partner – you of all people would be aware of the many locations I could choose to cause him maximum pain without killing him."

"Don't do it," Booth tugged on her arm, forcing Bones to look at him. "Please," he held her attention solely with the emotion in his eyes.

"How touching."

O'Connor didn't sound mocking and that was just wrong. Booth didn't want a killer's sympathy or understanding ... and he didn't want his partner anywhere near the guy, not when he couldn't stick close enough to protect her.

"Now please Doctor, come here," O'Connor insisted.

"It's okay Booth," Bones murmured. "He won't hurt me ... and I won't hurt him either ... yet."

Booth held on to her hand tightly for a moment, trying to read the expression in her eyes, trying to see if he really could trust her not to do anything rash. Finally, with a reluctant nod he let her pull her hand away, unable to bring himself to be the one to release her.

"Your work shows a high level of knowledge of forensic anthropology," Bones commented, taking a few steps forward until she was standing in front of O'Connor. She looked beautiful in her simple evening dress and heels, nothing of her previous efforts in getting them out of trouble apparent from her outward appearance, nor any hint of fear for O'Connor to fuel his sick game. "Surely you knew that deconstructing the remains would be standard practice once the bodies were discovered."

"They were not _remains_!" O'Connor strode forward, slapping Bones across the face hard enough to spin her around.

"Bones!" Booth rushed forward instinctively.

The sound of a gun cocking was as effective as if someone had pressed the pause button. Booth froze, his eyes tormented as he met Bones' blue gaze, both too aware of the muzzle of the gun now pressed firmly to her temple. Her cheek was red, a bruise already forming and it had his anger boiling and his alpha male rearing its dominant head. O'Connor had marked Booth's woman (she _was _his even if she hadn't fully acknowledged it yet) and there was no way in hell the younger man wouldn't pay for that before the day was done.

"Step back Agent Booth," O'Connor commanded. "Step back or I swear I will kill her right now. Her blood will be on your hands."

"Like Jane's blood is on yours?" Booth asked, stepping back and deliberately trying to antagonise the other man's attention back to him.

"Very good, and no more than I would expect from you," O'Connor seemed amused all of a sudden, shifting the gun away from Bones and indicating that he wanted her to take a seat on what looked like a throne, another abandoned prop from a long forgotten magic show. Booth didn't mind being the entertainment as long as it kept Bones alive. "You'd do anything for your partner, wouldn't you Agent Booth?" O'Connor asked, his conversational tone a counter point to the fact that he was currently making Bones fasten her own legs to the chair legs with sturdy cable ties he pulled from a pocket. He alternated pointing the gun at Booth with using it to gesture for Bones to keep going, never giving Booth an opening to disarm him.

"Yes," Booth said fiercely. "And I promise you, you put another mark on her and I _will_ end you."

"Strong words," Chris smiled, clearly not intimidated. He slipped another tie around the first chair arm, this one already looped to enclose Bones' wrist and pulled it quickly tight. A few seconds later her other arm was similarly restrained, and all without O'Connor losing his grip on the gun. Bones was completely immobilised, tightly enough that Booth knew there'd be no wriggling out this time. "Agent Booth, I'm going to need you to stand against the wall here," he nodded to one of the few sections of wall that was visible amidst the magical paraphernalia. Only then did Booth see the metal hook attached to the solid brick wall at least three feet above head height, a segment of rope dangling ominously.

Seeley exchanged glances with Bones ... this was potentially the point of no return. If he let himself be restrained too then O'Connor had the upper hand beyond Booth's power to alter that. Worse case scenario he'd be putting himself in the hands of the squint squad to arrive before O'Connor could kill them. But if he played his hand now, if he attempted to rush O'Connor, overpower him and get that gun, then in all likelihood Booth would end up shot anyway. Shot and therefore unable to protect Bones ... and the guy didn't look like someone who'd be rushed or unnerved into missing at close quarters.

"Booth," Bones urged him to do what O'Connor said, her eyes full of fear. It was fear for him though, not for herself, and it humbled him into submitting. He walked slowly to the wall and turned, eyes on Bones now seated directly in front of his position, the drama in the arrangement not lost on him. O'Connor was setting them up for something and Booth didn't like it one bit.

"Arms out together," Chris requested, another cable tie in hand.

Booth turned his eyes to O'Connor. He extended his arms but nothing about his demeanour or posture was submissive. The message to Chris was clear – Booth was doing this for Bones and in no way did it signal a victory. Chris secured Booth's wrists with the tie and then jumped up quickly and pulled the rope from the hook. That's when Booth saw the loops at each end, noose-like only smaller, perfect for tying up someone one handed - O'Connor had either prepared in advance or knew the rooms contents very, very well. O'Connor quickly secured the ends of the rope, one around each of Booth's wrists. "Almost there," he said, putting his gun to Booth's head as he used one booted foot to push a chair against the wall. "Step up on the chair Agent Booth," he told Booth casually, moving back to Bones. "Carefully now," O'Connor instructed, stroking the gun down Bones' cheek. "We wouldn't want my finger to slip, now would we?"

Booth shot Bones a tortured look and then reluctantly did what he was told.

"Loop the rope over the hook," O'Connor commanded.

Booth looked down at Bones again, his displeasure clear, and then grabbed each end of the rope, flipping it up and watching it settle inside the hook.

"Very good," O'Connor strode forward, kicking the chair away without warning.

Booth dropped to the ground - the only thing stopping him from falling was the ropes wrenching his arms painfully up over his head. His feet were on the floor but only just. Booth tugged experimentally on the ropes and didn't like the equation he came up with or the fact that his own weight had already acted against him, tightening the ropes around his wrists to the point of cutting off circulation. The length gave him little manoeuvrability – his arms were fully extended and any move he made away from the wall would pull his arms back behind him painfully. He knew the routine – it was a position designed to make him feel powerless, the arms over the head with the resulting lack of protection for under arms and chest was supposed to make him feel vulnerable. Booth had been in much worse situations though so the only thing O'Connor achieved was to make him coldly angry and determined.

"Remember what I said," Booth's warning was delivered in a low, menacing tone. "You hurt her again and I will kill you."

"How does it feel Doctor Brennan, knowing he'd kill for you?" O'Connor kept his gun trained on Booth as he stepped back and turned to address Bones.

"Booth has a well developed sense of honour and responsibility," Bones stated logically. "Feelings aren't the driving force behind his actions. He would do whatever it took to protect anyone from harm, whether they were a stranger or someone close to him."

"Funny," O'Connor looked at Booth, again with that almost sympathetic expression. "It must be hard for you Agent Booth. Tell me, does what you feel ever win over what our good Doctor here intellectualises?"

"She's not _your_ anything," Booth shot back. The need to tug at the ropes warred with the need not to reveal to their tormenter that he was getting to Seeley. The frustration was already eating at him and it was only going to get worse.

"Oh but she is," Chris smiled and it had that horrible creeping feeling of dread sweeping over Booth - he just knew he wasn't going to like what this guy said next. "Doctor Brennan is my inspiration ... my motivation. Without her I would have ended it years ago."

"Shut up!" Booth locked eyes with Bones, unable to resist tugging on his restraints when he registered her expression. She looked frozen, pale ... and he was sure that reason and logic weren't driving her current thoughts. "Bones, don't listen. Guys like him always look for someone to blame because they're not man enough to take responsibility for their own actions."

"Your need to protect your partner is really quite fascinating," Chris commented, "but in this case the truth will have to win out. Before Doctor Brennan's class my studies were nothing more than purely academic. Her lectures changed that – she gave me an appreciation of forensic anthropology as an art form, as an expression of more than just the collection of bones one life might leave behind. They weren't just bones to her ... they _spoke_ to her. After that first day they spoke to me too."

"And what, they told you to go out and kill people?" Booth scoffed snidely. "I was right. You really are a sick bastard."

He expected a verbal backlash but instead got a boot in the gut delivered with a competent looking reverse kick that propelled his back into the wall. Bending to cushion the pain would have been nice but he didn't have that luxury and could only ride it out, only the clenching of his teeth visible evidence that O'Connor had hurt him.

"Is that why you chose us?" Bones words cut through the male battle before Booth could provide further antagonism.

"No, that was just ... serendipity," O'Connor admitted. "Do the two of you believe in fate?" he looked at Bones and then back to Booth.

"Yes/Preposterous," Booth smiled when Bones answered at the same time, sure they were both thinking about the same conversation. The day they'd met ... and strangely the day that had put them on the path to where they currently were.

"When I saw the two of you walk into the hotel it felt like fate," O'Connor continued. "I didn't make the connection that you were here to investigate me until Agent Booth's appearance at the bar. I'd been expecting someone to ask about the missing couples for years but it never happened, until now. That felt like fate too ... that it should be you Doctor Brennan who'd come to catch me. Because of anyone _you_ would understand my tributes."

"She understands that people make their own choices," Booth waited for Bones to look at him, waited for her to see what he was trying to convey.

"Then you chose poorly on every count," Bones kept her eyes from Booth as she continued. "Agent Booth and I aren't romantically involved but even if we were I'd be the last person to understand your motivations. I _don't_ understand ... _any_ of it. Booth had to translate for me after we found the first couple because I didn't get it, didn't see that you chose those particular people for a reason. But it wouldn't have mattered if I had gotten it. I don't care why you chose them, or why you chose us because there's no such thing as forever ... nothing, not even the bones you so carefully arranged, lasts forever. Your tribute is wasted on me because I don't believe in any of it – true love, one person for everyone, forever ... I just ... I don't believe."

"Bones," Booth muttered, saddened by the element of truth in her words. Her eyes swam with tears as she looked at him regretfully, his own tearing up in response.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"I'm afraid you will be very sorry Doctor Brennan," Chris stepped into Booth's line of vision, blocking his view. His right hand rose slowly and Booth saw the gun, saw it and felt his world about to fall off its axis.

"_WAIT!_" he yelled, pushing himself forward and groaning as his shoulders wrenched painfully backwards. "_Damn it! _Wait," he said again, pushing forward again despite the pain. "Before you do anything, don't you think you owe us your story?"

Chris stopped, turning to Booth with a narrowed gaze. Booth watched him, not letting himself look at Bones because he wasn't sure he wouldn't break down and beg her to just tell O'Connor whatever he wanted to hear.

"Yes," the other man nodded thoughtfully. "Perhaps you are right Agent Booth. A story might be just what we need right now. I suggest you resettle yourself against that wall – I wouldn't want you to permanently damage yourself," he laughed at that last comment, ridiculous given he intended to kill them both.

Booth slumped back against the wall, only then looking at Bones. She was watching him intently, her expression easy to read. "_What the hell are you doing?_" would have come pretty close although maybe not as succinct as that. "_Buying us time_," he tried to convey back to her, raising his brows until she nodded subtly.

"You were right Agent Booth," O'Connor perched on top of the illusion box, the gun still held at the ready. "I did know Jane Woods ... rather well in fact. We were ... fated, in my eyes at least. I remember the day I met her so clearly – remember what she was wearing, what she said ... how it felt to meet someone and just know, right then, that they were it." He looked at Booth knowingly. "I suspect you understand exactly what I'm talking about."

"Yeah, maybe," Booth admitted for the sake of trying to make a connection. The guy had one thing right – you didn't forget a moment like that, even if you didn't appreciate what it really meant until years later. He could put himself inside that first meeting with Bones with complete realism. The outfit she wore, how she had her hair, the tone of her voice, and as he'd stepped closer, the scent she'd worn. That feeling of fate stepping in and grabbing him by the heart hadn't faded either – in fact he still felt it sometimes when Bones surprised him with her presence when he wasn't expecting to see her.

"More than just maybe," O'Connor cast Bones an amused glance before continuing with his story. "Jane and I went out for months ... the best of my life as it turns out. It was like my future had been defined by her – I knew where I was going, what I was supposed to do. Until ...," he frowned, his expression darkening.

"Until Steven Marshall came along and ruined it for you," Booth said it for him.

"Precisely," Chris nodded. "I don't blame Jane. He set out to seduce her away from me – she was dazzled by his attentions, by his looks and by his charms – an older man, interested in her when she was still in school."

"You couldn't compete with that," Booth said gently, supportively. He could see the bruise on Bones' face darkening, the mark O'Connor had put on her and it galled to even pretend to side with him but if there was a chance Seeley could talk him around then he had to try, had to do whatever was necessary. He looked at Bones, silently urging her to keep quiet, to let him do the talking. She nodded again, seemingly content for him run the show for the time being.

"No, I couldn't compete," Chris agreed. He was silent for a moment before sighing, shaking his head. "I waited – for weeks – expecting Jane to see the truth but she didn't. I sent her flowers, letters, I called her for days but she wouldn't see me, wouldn't talk to me. and so I left. I just couldn't bear to see her with him so I quit university and got a job here. Everything would have been fine Agent Booth if she hadn't called," O'Connor laughed harshly. "I should have changed my number but I didn't. She called, said she felt like she owed me the truth. She and Marshall were planning on getting married. I don't know what I really intended to do but something had me offering her a special deal here at the Bellagio. To show her there were no hard feelings I said. She believed me."

"You confronted them?" Booth could almost see how it had played out but needed O'Connor to finish it himself.

"I discovered these rooms the first week I was here – they were my retreat, my solace. I asked Marshall to meet me down here to see an exclusive collection but once we were here I confronted him instead, told him not to marry Jane, that she was mine." His expression went cold as he looked at Booth. "Do you know what he did? He laughed at me. Asked me did I really think I could threaten him by luring him down to the hotel basement like some kind of mobster. It all happened so fast after that. I didn't know ...," his voice cracked, tears forming in his eyes as he looked at Booth imploringly.

"You didn't know Jane followed Steven down here," Booth obligingly concluded.

"She leapt in front of him," Chris said disbelievingly, standing up and pacing a few steps back and forth in front of Booth. "I ripped the pariser off the wall and I rushed at him and then she was just there, in front of him. I couldn't pull back ... I stabbed them both with that one blow and I knew it instantly, she was gone. It was an accident," he sobbed out, turning away. "I never meant to hurt her. I'm not sure I even meant to hurt him. It was an accident."

"What about him?" Booth asked after a few moments where O'Connor got himself back under control, wiping away his tears. "Was it instant for him too?

"I don't know," O'Connor's expression hardened again, no trace of vulnerability left. "I left them both here ... locked that door and fled the scene, the whole damn state. I went home, back to DC and I tried to pretend it had never happened. But Jane's face haunted me. Do you know what that's like, to see the face of someone you didn't save, to feel so responsible for their death that you want to die yourself?"

"I have some idea," Booth said evasively.

O'Connor nodded. "It got to the point where I couldn't sleep. I'd re-enrolled at American University but I couldn't study either. There was just no meaning to any of it and it ate at me every second of every day. She was my future and without her I was lost ... just marking time ... and I just couldn't understand why. Had fate really wanted me to find the woman I could spend forever with only to have her gone at my own hand? I couldn't deal with it so I went out and I bought this gun and I fully intended to end it myself. I would have too if fate hadn't stepped in again and showed me the reason."

He smiled, looking at Booth expecting to see a reflection of the understanding the FBI agent had already demonstrated. He'd been a heart broken guy, the victim of an horrific accident in the retelling up until that point but Booth saw it clearly, the insanity lurking behind his eyes.

"I'd signed up for a lecture series when I got back and something made me go even though I hadn't been to a class in weeks," O'Connor looked at Bones for the first time. "Your lecture series Doctor Brennan. Modern de-fleshing methods. You spoke so eloquently about the story the bones could tell, the secrets the flesh could hide and it was like a light bulb going off right in my eyes."

Booth watched Bones carefully, his heart hurting for her, for the knowledge he could see forming in her eyes. Indirectly her words had influenced the deaths of every other couple after Jane and Steven, because her love for her field had inspired O'Connor to live. "_Don't_," he mouthed to her, his eyes pleading with her not to take on that burden. She tried to smile but her lips trembled and she pressed them together in that way of hers, visibly swallowing back her emotions.

"Jane's death had seemed meaningless before that day but I realised it wasn't," O'Connor continued. "She'd called _me_. She came _here_ ... not because she thought she owed me, because she _wanted_ me to see. She hadn't loved me but she did love him, enough to give her life in an attempt to save him. She loved him enough to give him all the rest of her days ... to give him her forever. And she trusted me enough to see that to the end – to create a tribute to that sacrifice. I came back here, got my job back, did that research you inspired me to do Doctor Brennan. And two months after I killed them I was ready to place that tribute in a place I thought would preserve them forever."

"After so many years it was hard to estimate accurately how long the bones had been exposed," Bones commented to Booth defensively. "I didn't see that they were dead for so long before the de-fleshing took place."

"And I'll be sure to give you a poor grade on that _after_ we get out of here," Booth ground out under his breath, looking at her pointedly reminding her to keep quiet. "So you gave them a unique resting place," he refocussed on O'Connor. "How did you go from an accident to another six years of murdering engaged couples?"

"I don't expect you to understand Agent Booth," O'Connor smiled complacently, that insane light in his eyes sending warning flags up in Booth's mind. "They came to _me_ ... one couple every Valentine's Day. All looking for the same thing ... to truly be as one forever. Life is difficult ... events occur that rip people apart despite their best efforts to stay together. They knew that. They _wanted_ me to take control, to make sure it didn't happen to them. I made it painless, merciful," he added as though that made all the difference. "Just as I would have made it merciful for you and Doctor Brennan."

"I think I can safely speak for both of us when I say we'll pass on your 'controlling the future' efforts," Booth shot back grimly. "I'll take real life with all its difficulties and complications any day, no matter how things turn out."

"You would rather be alone?" O'Connor seemed truly surprised by that. "You would rather watch your love settle with someone else, knowing you'll never have anything as special as that again?"

"I would," Booth agreed simply, "because it would mean that she was happy, and that means more to me than my own happiness. That's the part you missed, the part that makes it obvious you didn't really love Jane. Because if you had her happiness would have been everything to you. Do you really think she'd be happy with what you've done the past six years? Do you think she'd be proud of you?"

He saw it coming but couldn't avoid it, O'Connor's fist, gun clenched inside, flying towards his head. The butt of the gun struck him in the cheek, slamming the other side of his head against the wall hard enough that he saw stars.

"She dumped me!" O'Connor shouted, spinning and kicking Booth in the gut again before following it up with another gun clenched fist in the face that had Booth's head dropping forward limply, blood dripping from his mouth.

* * *

"We need to see your basement," Hodgins didn't bother with pleasantries as he made their request. They'd arrived at the Bellagio moments before and proceeded straight to the front desk.

"I'm sorry Sir," the young clerk said, confused. "The basement is off limits to guests. Are you a guest of the hotel?"

"Listen buddy," Hodgins leaned in to get his message across. "Two of our friends are being held by a serial killer who's already responsible for the deaths of fourteen people, all of them former guests at this hotel. We can find our friends before it's too late if you'll be so good as to direct us to the basement, specifically the section housing the reproduction of Houdini's Chinese Water Torture Cell. Understand? Now make a decision because every second we waste could be one second closer to our friends meeting a gruesome end."

"I'm not authorised to let non guests into the hotel," the clerk said weakly, "but I'll call my manager right now."

"You do that," Hodgins motioned for the younger man to put his words into actions. "Tell them we have FBI endorsement. You don't want us calling them back here, do you?"

"No Sir," the young man said nervously, picking up the phone.

"Oh God, I hope we're not too late," Angela murmured from her position beside her husband.

"We have no reason to believe the killer will deviate from his usual pattern," Cam reminded them all from his other side.

"Apart from the fact that he knows who Doctor Brennan and Agent Booth are," Wendell pointed out what they'd all been thinking since they'd gotten on that plane.

"Well yes, apart from that," Cam agreed weakly. Turning back to the desk clerk she put on her best 'Head Coroner of New York' face. "Your manager – down here, right now. Quickly please."

The clerk gulped, speaking nervously into the phone. "They want to see you Sir ... and I wouldn't recommend making them wait. They're scarier than the FBI." Nodding he turned back to Cam. "He'll be right down."

"Thank you," Cam said gratefully, already gearing up to insist they be given what they needed immediately, everything in her worried that Seeley and Doctor Brennan didn't have even the time it would take for the manager to arrive.

"Don't worry, we'll find them," Hodgins murmured reassuringly.

**Authors Note:**

Apologies for the extended weekend gap between posting - school holidays here so I have lots of additional entertaining to do. I'm sure my girls will be just as obsessed with Bones as I am but six and three is a little young to be introducing them to it's wonders just yet! Right, so hope you like this latest chapter. Two more to go unless I get unusually verbose and add lots to the last one during editing *grins*. As always if you feel inspired to let me know what you thought of this chapter I'd be very appreciative of your comments. Thanks.

Oh, and for a little cross promotion, I also make the occasional fan video and have just uploaded my first Bones one on youtube, under ShaViva3. (www. youtube. com/ watch?v=xfcLZCfbUXA - take out the spaces). If you like fan vids please take 3 minutes and 47 seconds to watch (and maybe a few extra seconds to comment if you liked it!) Thanks again!


	16. Confession

**Authors Note:**

For those who read the last chapter early in the piece please note that I made a change to the scene where Chris ties them up ... because as **daffodil7511** so rightly pointed out how did he tie up two people while holding a gun? Duh! That'll teach me to edit at 3am in the morning! It was a challenge to work out how to get around that and I had to get a little creative so I rewrote the scene and reposted the chapter. It's not crucial to the story but it does impact on minor details in this chapter. Thanks daffodil7511 for pointing this mistake out. And now, on with the story, and this really, REALLY long chapter ...

**Chapter 16: Confession**

"_Nothing worth doing is completed in our lifetime, therefore, we are saved by hope. Nothing true or beautiful or good makes complete sense in any immediate context of history; therefore, we are saved by faith. Nothing we do, however virtuous, can be accomplished alone; therefore, we are saved by love. No virtuous act is quite as virtuous from the standpoint of our friend or foe as from our own; therefore, we are saved by the final form of love which is forgiveness." Reinhold Niebuhr_

Brennan felt helpless, strapped to a chair while Booth did everything he could to draw O'Connor out. To what end Brennan couldn't yet see, but the tension was palpable. Her uncertainty kept her silent as the younger man's story came out, including her part in it. She tried to hold on to the truth in Booth's eyes, tried to make his unspoken message the thing that centred her but it was difficult. She felt sick inside ... shaken, and uncertain ... but she couldn't do anything other that rely solely in Booth because she couldn't see a way to contribute. That was until O'Connor hit her partner and it became a whole different ballgame, the fisted gun making a horrible sound as it struck Booth's jaw.

"Jane cried for you!" Temperance shouted abruptly, desperate to do something as O'Connor continued to beat Booth.

Chris froze, breathing hard, his back still to her.

"Because she cared for you," Brennan expanded, her desperation leading her down a path she wasn't sure was the right one. "Your leaving hurt her in some way."

O'Connor turned to face her, the anger on his face falling away to show some of his earlier vulnerability again. "How do you know that?" he asked, hope there as well.

"Because she spoke to her mother about you," Brennan explained, forcing her voice to remain calm and logical. She could see Booth hanging limply from the ropes behind O'Connor's back, his head resting against his chest suggesting he was unconscious, splashes of blood looking too red against the whiteness of his shirt. It was up to her to buy them time now, the challenge of that sending understandable panic through her. She needed Booth for this – he was the one who spoke emotions, who understood the motivations of the heart, not her.

"What did she say?" Chris asked, taking a few steps closer, a few precious steps further away from Booth.

"Jane regretted hurting you," Brennan said bluntly. "She was upset that her happiness had come at the cost of yours. I believe it hurt her too because she felt she'd ruined your future, that your dropping out of university was her doing." Brennan stopped, assessing her audience to see if she was on the right track. She couldn't see it and looked to Booth hopefully, wishing again for him to wake up and help her ... he didn't which meant it was still up to her. "Jane loved you but not in the manner you wished – she wanted to but it wasn't what she felt. I believe you were still very important to her though, even after she left you to pursue a relationship with Steven Marshall."

"Why do you believe that?"

"Because she called you," Brennan said simply. "She wanted you to be a part of something she saw as the most important step of her life. You were her friend first and she wanted you to be there. She wanted you to be happy for her."

"And instead I killed her," O'Connor turned away from her abruptly and fired the gun straight at Booth.

Brennan screamed, her heart lurching as her eyes locked on Booth, as she frantically searched for evidence of injury. Shards of concrete were lodged in his hair, a few spots of blood on his check showing that some had found their mark in skin, but otherwise he was unharmed. The bullet hole in the wall mere inches from his right armpit still smouldered dust and smoke.

"Next time I won't miss," O'Connor said emotionlessly.

"What do you want from us?" Brennan cried, her pulse still racing as she watched for some sign of consciousness from Booth.

"The same thing I've wanted every year since Jane died," Chris returned. "_Meaning_. I want it all to mean something because if it doesn't why are any of us here?"

"We are all driven by the biological imperative to perpetuate our species," Brennan stated logically. It was only because she was staring so hard at Booth that she saw it, the slight raise of his head and the faint smile on his lips. He was conscious and her words had amused him. Feeling lightened despite their still tenuous situation, Brennan struggled to continue her efforts with O'Connor. "As individuals we are insignificant in that endeavour, like a single worker bee in a hive, but we still feel the same urges pushing us towards particular actions."

"I've studied anthropology Doctor," O'Connor reminded her. "I understand the basics. If I'm reading you right what you're saying is that none of us are important as individuals. So I can just shoot Agent Booth right now because in the grand scheme of things it doesn't matter, is that right?"

"_No!_" Brennan protested instinctively. Booth had raised his head fully and was looking at her now, his expression unreadable.

"But you just said the individual doesn't matter," O'Connor approached her, stopping when he was only a pace away. "Is that wrong? Does Agent Booth matter?"

"While individuals in general contribute to the evolution and advancement of the species in an insignificant manner there are some whose contributions make them valuable beyond their place as just one of many."

"And Agent Booth's contributions are significant," O'Connor concluded.

"He stops people like you from hurting others, thereby making the world a safer place for everyone," Brennan made her negative judgement of Chris sound like nothing more than a logical remark.

"But surely there are other, what did you call them, worker bees, who could do the same," O'Connor leaned down until his eyes were level with hers. "No, I think you're gonna have to do better than that Doctor Brennan. In fact, I think you're going to have to convince me that Agent Booth is vitally important to you otherwise I will kill him right now."

"You're going to kill us anyway," Brennan pointed out logically. "Unless you're suggesting that my words can alter the eventual outcome there's no point in my participating in this conversation any further."

"You hear that Agent Booth?" O'Connor glanced back at Booth, showing that he too had been aware of Seeley's return to consciousness. "She wants to make a deal. Doesn't that make you proud?"

"She'll eat you for breakfast and then spit on your bones," Booth promised, wincing as the movement stretched his split lip.

"That sounds like a challenge to me," O'Connor turned back to Bones. "Very well Doctor Brennan. This is your chance to show me that what I'm trying to do is unnecessary - you can be my test case if you will. Think of it as a scientific experiment - your future relationship with Agent Booth here against the forever I would have created for you. Convince me ... make me feel what you feel. If you do a good enough job I'll let Agent Booth live. You have my word as a fellow forensic anthropologist."

"Unqualified," Brennan corrected briskly.

"Sorry?" O'Connor stopped, frowning.

"You never completed your degree which makes you at best an unqualified forensic anthropologist," Brennan explained. "Whereas I am the best in my field. I hardly think your credibility would stand up against mine."

"_Bones_!" Booth frowned warningly, giving her a 'how many times have I told you not to antagonise the suspects!' look.

"If that's your way of saying you're unwilling to trust me we can end this now," O'Connor threatened, turning back to Booth.

"No, she'll do it, won't you Bones," Booth said quickly.

Brennan didn't respond as she looked at O'Connor assessingly, searching to understand what he was really trying to achieve by forcing her to argue for a concept she'd already stated she didn't believe in.

"Bones," Booth spoke only to her, his expression urging her to understand. They needed time, needed to give Hodgins and the others the opportunity to find them. And that meant she had to play along. "Speak to me," he urged softly. "Ignore him and talk to me like you promised you would."

"I hardly think now is the time to be having that kind of conversation," Brennan protested irritably. "You know I'm not good at this Booth – I'm not sure I would have been successful in communicating my concerns to you under ideal circumstances. Do you really think I can do so now when your life hangs on how well I do?"

"It's not like we have a choice here Bones," Booth shot back, his frustration clear. "Unless you don't care enough to try in which case let the guy shoot me, put me out of my misery!"

"You don't mean that," Brennan chided him.

"You're right, I don't," Booth relented with a sigh. "Just ... try okay."

"Yes Doctor Brennan, _please_, proceed," O'Connor insisted, his amused tone biting at her pride.

"You can do this," Booth drew her eyes back to his, his brows raised as he nodded confidently.

"Very well," Brennan agreed. Gathering her thoughts kept her silent for a few moments – she wasn't sure how she would have done this had they been having this conversation after O'Connor was behind bars. It seemed that starting was the most difficult part and so, keeping her eyes firmly on Booth she went straight for the conclusion, in her own way. "While I'm still unconvinced that love is an emotion to aspire to, or something that can exist for the sum of one's life I think it's important to begin by telling you that I do feel love for you Booth. It's a truth I can't avoid despite the fact that admitting the presence of such an emotion is contrary to everything I believe about what drives relationships between men and women."

"Wow, I bet that wasn't the beginning you were expecting," O'Connor stopped beside Booth, laughing when Seeley turned a glare on him. "Sorry, please continue Doctor Brennan. This is already far more entertaining than I expected."

"Can I ask how long you've felt that way?" Booth did his best to ignore Chris, focussing solely on his partner.

"You can," Brennan agreed, "although to be honest I don't have a definitive answer. Some aspects of the feelings I have for you were there from the beginning, beyond the intense sexual attraction we both experienced, others took some time to build. I'm not sure how accurate my answer would be."

"This isn't an exam Bones," Booth was clearly annoyed but Brennan wasn't exactly sure why. "An estimate will do."

"You're angry," she said bluntly. "Perhaps we should continue this later."

"If you listen to this guy there isn't going to be a later!" Booth practically growled that one at her. "Just answer the question ... please?"

"Fine," Brennan drew a calming breath deep into her lungs and then expelled it slowly. "The first time I found myself labelling the range of emotions I have for you as love was just after we found out what happened to my mother. Perhaps I had those feelings before those events but that's when I realised what they meant. You were just so ... gentle and yet supportive, so willing to do whatever I needed to find out the truth. You didn't try to stop me, even though it turned out to be more dangerous and more upsetting than I expected. I found it unusually ... comforting to be held in your arms."

"Bones, that was almost _seven_ years ago!"

"I'm aware of how long ago it was Booth," Brennan said primly.

"Why the hell did you let me think you didn't feel the same?" Booth demanded. "I laid my heart out for you – I told you what I wanted and you shot me down! _Damn it_ Temperance! You let me go to Afghanistan thinking you didn't love me! How could you do that?"

"I ...," Brennan swallowed, feeling the tears rising to her eyes as a wave of emotion swirled inside her. "I ...," she began again, staring at him miserably. "I'm sorry Booth."

"You didn't believe me that night when I said I loved you?" he asked quietly, his careful tone more troubling to her than his anger had been.

"You never said you loved me then Booth," she reminded him. "You said you wanted to try us which is entirely different."

"Okay, maybe I didn't say the exact words but what else could I have meant?" he glared at her, anger back. "I told you I knew, just like those old guys who are still in love thirty, forty, fifty years down the track. What the hell did you think I was talking about? You're not that oblivious Bones – you knew what I meant."

"I suppose so," she agreed sadly, compelled to be fully honest with her partner. "There was nothing you could have done differently to influence the outcome of that conversation Booth. Whatever words you used I would still have reacted the same way."

"Because you love me, just not enough to take a risk and actually _be _with me," he concluded in a tone that lacked his usual emotion, looking down at the floor instead of at her. "That's why you didn't admit to this before, isn't it ... when we were tied up together?"

"_No_," she denied immediately. "No Booth, that wasn't it. That's _not_ it."

"Then what's stopping us Bones because from where I'm standing you just told me we've wasted the past seven years!"

"I'm not strong like you," Brennan said softly. "I don't have your kind of generous heart."

"That's bullshit Bones," Booth interrupted to disagreed forcefully. "I've seen you with the families of the victims – you've got more than enough heart."

"Just shut up and let me finish," Brennan swallowed back her tears. "I don't have the kind of heart that's comfortable with strong emotions. When my parents left, when Russ followed so soon afterwards, I was ... lost. I felt angry and scared and confused but more than that I just felt so ... sad. It overwhelmed me Booth. I couldn't function and I realised that I had to close off that side of myself, that I had to look at the events surrounding their disappearance with reason and logic, leaving out the emotional aspects. And it worked. I was able to live my life on my terms. I felt in control, I knew my place and I knew what to expect from the future." She smiled through her tears, watching him listening to her so carefully. "And then you came along and suddenly things weren't as certain anymore. You suspected so quickly that we could be something – you said it that night in the rain, that you thought we were going somewhere. I felt it too and it scared me, so I ran and when I couldn't avoid you I covered it with antagonism and anger until we parted ways. When our working partnership was reformed I was _glad _your FBI rules made any kind of relationship between us impossible because I didn't want to feel anything meaningful. Purely sexual relationships were fine because they didn't carry the risk of requiring me to be anything I wasn't comfortable being. Do you understand?"

"They didn't touch your heart," Booth said quietly. "Didn't threaten that control you're so fond of."

"_You_ threatened me, just by being who you are," Brennan admitted. "You scared me. It seemed safer to ignore my feelings, more prudent too given that I truly believed that what I was feeling would be transient, that it would fade in time."

"I don't know what your definition of transient is but seven years seems a little long," Booth commented with a faint smile.

"Deep down I knew I was deluding myself but it felt comfortable ... safer ... to do so," Brennan sighed. "I'm sorry. If you can forgive my deception I will endeavour to be more honest in the future, with myself and with you." She looked at him with a combination of hope and dread. "Can you forgive me Booth?"

Booth looked at her silently for a time ... everything in that room was quiet, O'Connor included. As she waited for Booth to speak Brennan realised their audience had been unusually silent. Did that mean something? Where they making positive progress or was O'Connor simply playing with them, giving them false hope that he would release them when he had no intention of doing so?

"I have to forgive you Bones," Booth finally said with a sigh. "There's no point in punishing either of us by holding on to this ... just ... talk to me in future okay?"

"Okay," Brennan agreed, the relief washing over her. Turning with a raised brow to O'Connor she asked "is that sufficient to convince you?"

"You love him, he loves you," O'Connor put a hand on each of Brennan's chair arms and leaned down to whisper in her ear. "Hardly a news flash Doctor. I saw that seconds after talking to both of you the night you checked in. Good try though." Straightening he strode to Booth, pressing the gun to Seeley's heart. "Say goodbye Agent Booth."

"_NO!_" Brennan jerked on the ropes around her, scraping the chair across the concrete floor. "_Please_ ... don't do this."

"_Then give me a reason not to_!" O'Connor yelled, ramming the muzzle into Booth's chest. Seeley flinched but said nothing, everything he was seemingly focussed on Brennan.

"You're not going to let us go, are you?" Brennan demanded tearfully. "Why are you really doing this?"

"Because I can," O'Connor retorted angrily. "Because it all began with _you_ Doctor Brennan ... and I don't know whether to punish or reward you for that. Because making you talk like this is clearly more painful to you than if I were simply to shoot you."

"Hey! Don't blame her for your sick perversions pal," Booth pushed forward into the weapon, unflinching.

"I suggest you remain quiet Agent Booth," Chris cocked the gun, ready to fire. "Because if you don't I _will_ silence you myself."

"If you kill him you might as well kill me too," Brennan admitted in a desperate rush, forced to let the tears fall unbidden down her cheeks because her hands were tied. More tears followed, gathering speed as she locked eyes with Booth, her misery apparent.

"Bones ... no," he whispered. "Don't say that."

"It's true," she insisted, blinking to clear his tear blurred image. She was hyper aware of O'Connor standing beside Booth now, his gun still raised although thankfully no longer pressed into Booth's chest. It spurred her on, time buying, sensible cooperation, the chance to change the intent of a killer, a bizarre moment of complete truth; all of it drew her onwards.

"I know I'm being inconsistent and illogical Booth. I can't bring myself to believe in the kind of forever you talk about despite my desire at times to do so, and yet at an elemental level I need for you to be a part of my life in some capacity. I don't understand the contradiction but I can't deny that it is there. You said that you missed me during our year apart, that it never got easier. I should have told you then that I found it equally as difficult to be separated from you on a day to day basis. Emails and phone calls weren't enough for me to feel sufficiently connected to you and your absence troubled me daily, more so as time passed. And while I was able to gain perspective on the nature of our work and our professional partnership I could never reconcile those personal feelings."

"Bones," Booth seemed at a loss for words, something she would have smiled at if she weren't so overcome with emotion.

"You never asked me how I coped when I thought Pam had killed you." She hunched one shoulder, trying to wipe the tears from her cheek but it was a losing battle, more flowing to replace the ones she'd removed.

"Because you decked me at my own funeral!" Booth reminded her. "I thought that was a pretty clear message that you did just fine."

"You didn't cry for him Doctor Brennan? How sad for you Agent Booth," O'Connor commented, shifting to prop himself against the back of the chair he'd had Booth stand on before. Booth turned to glare at Chris but otherwise didn't acknowledge his observation. "He's angry with you Doctor Brennan," Chris said mockingly. "Doesn't that scare you?"

"Unlike you, Booth would never hurt me," Brennan said confidently, her eyes on Booth and the way he smiled at her comment. "I didn't do fine Booth," she denied his assessment of that difficult time. "It hurt, worse than I remembered feeling when my parents disappeared. I tried to close myself off like I had then but it wasn't working. I couldn't sleep, couldn't eat, couldn't shut my mind off. The only thing that stopped the pain was work and even then I knew it was a temporary measure; that the rest of it would catch up with me to the point that my work would suffer too. The only reason I recovered is because you came back."

"I'm so sorry Bones," Booth said gently. "I had no idea it was so difficult for you."

"You were my partner and as far as I knew you died!" Brennan retorted irritably. "It would have been difficult for anyone. What I felt was more than that ... and I came to realise that I couldn't afford to depend on you any more than I already did. If your death devastated me when we weren't in a relationship, how much worse would it have been if we were?"

"Perhaps you should be doing more to guide this conversation Agent Booth," O'Connor laughed. "Right now Doctor Brennan is doing a much better job supporting my side than she is convincing me that your relationship is strong enough to just let life happen."

"I told you I wouldn't be good at this!" Temperance complained to Booth impatiently. "Are you sure you want to put your life in my hands like this?"

"Always."

They locked gazes again, another one of those moments where the world, even the grimly tense one they were currently residing in, melted away, leaving only the two of them.

"You're doing great Bones - look at him, he's having doubts." Booth speared an intense look at O'Connor. "Isn't that right? She's got you questioning yourself somewhere inside that twisted mind." Brennan was amazed that O'Connor shifted back slightly, that Booth still managed to look intimidating, even though he was the one restrained to the wall. "Go on," Booth urged her.

Nodding she took a few steadying breaths and then continued. "After your fake death I began to worry that you would suffer the same fate in reality and I admit that such concerns seemed only to validate that I was right in not letting myself feel so much for you. It felt safer to continue as we always had."

"You can't live your life like you've already lost everything Bones," Booth argued. "What kind of life is that?"

"A calmer one," Brennan said simply. "When the gravedigger kidnapped you it was like your death all over again except this time I had a chance to influence the outcome. I was willing to do anything to find you Booth. I urged Jared to sacrifice his career and maybe even his freedom, I ignored how Hodgins was feeling, I didn't care that the FBI were watching us ... when we couldn't get Taffett to talk I would have stood by and let Jared torture the information from her. Nothing was unacceptable to me as long as it led us to your location. We were lucky – we found you before it was too late. What happens next time?"

"I don't understand," Booth argued. "I mean I understand what you're saying, I just don't understand how denying what you feel helps the situation. Are you saying that you could handle my death better now than you would if you had years of memories of the two of us together to comfort you? Because I'm not seeing it Bones. I don't even want to think about something happening to you but if it did I _know_ having had the chance to love you, knowing you loved me in return _would_ help. It wouldn't die Bones – my love for you would still be there, even if I couldn't be. I believe that. It's what got me through twelve months in Afghanistan without you. Having someone back home is what gets anyone through a separation like that. Why do you think that is?"

"I don't know," Brennan admitted. "Those are the kinds of questions you understand Booth, better than I ever could. All I know is that it didn't help to remember my parents after they disappeared. The fact that they loved me only made it more difficult to accept that they were gone."

"Because they _chose _to disappear," Booth said patiently. "I would _never_ do that to you. It would never be my own free will to leave you Temperance ... never."

"I still fail to see how you can be so sure of that Booth," Brennan shifted, frustrated by her continuing inadequacy in understanding how this was supposed to work.

"I just am," he returned with certainty. "I can't give you a guarantee Bones. No one can. I. Just. Know. At some point you have to put your faith in something." He looked at her intently, his eyes sure and purposeful. "I'm asking you to put that faith in me. If you can't believe for yourself then believe it because I do."

"You truly believe that a romantic relationship between us is what you'll want for the foreseeable future?"

"God yes!" Booth grinned suddenly. "Even when you make me mad as hell I still want you, only you. You'll be what I want when I'm old and crotchety, I'm sure of it Bones. Trust me?"

"Give it up Agent Booth," O'Connor turned and pointed the gun at Brennan. "She'll never trust you ... you'll think she does but then one day she'll cut out your heart and stomp it into the ground on her way to the next unlucky schmoe. Better I end it now, before you give her the chance to hurt you more than she already has." Turning he pointed the gun at Booth instead. "Or maybe I should kill you first, before she gives you the wrong answer ... let you keep your illusions that she'll stay with you forever."

And there it was ... crunch time ... their moment, maybe the last one they'd have to get this right, and Brennan realised with sudden clarity that she was ready. Ready to do what he'd asked and put her faith in him, ready to trust that when she was unsure he'd be there to lend her his certainty. Ready to forget her irrational need for a guaranteed future when she couldn't bring herself to count on it.

Ready to just live each day knowing that he'd be there beside her.

"I have no intention of giving Booth the wrong answer," Brennan spoke firmly, locking her eyes on O'Connor. "Because I do trust him ... I do," she smiled tearfully at Booth. "I can't provide a logical argument and yet I feel certain that my wants will also be the same, should we be lucky enough to survive to become geriatrics together."

"That's good enough for me," Booth declared.

He moved so fast Brennan barely registered his intent. One second he was grinning at her, the next he was levering his legs off the floor and sideways into O'Connor, trusting the ropes around his wrists to hold his weight. The first solid kick hit with precision, snapping O'Connor's still outstretched wrist and knocking the gun from his hand. Chris yelled in anger and pain but before he could counter attack Booth had scissored his lower legs around the younger man's neck.

Brennan watched as Booth held on grimly, his eyes locked to hers as O'Connor's struggles slowed and then ceased. She watched silently as her partner and the love of her life slowly choked the life out of another human being, Booth's face reddening and the veins standing out in his neck at the effort it took to hold on. She watched as remorse filled Booth's eyes, as he added another life to the negative side of his balance sheet.

Maybe he could have stopped short of taking that life but Brennan was glad he hadn't. He was still restrained, as was she – if Booth had left even the hint of an opening and O'Connor regained consciousness before Hodgins and the others found them then Brennan knew they'd both die by O'Connor's hand. Given they had no idea how long it would take for rescue to arrive it seemed only prudent to her to ensure that O'Connor no longer posed any threat. Booth wouldn't feel the same, wouldn't be that pragmatic, and it saddened her. When he let the other man drop to the floor the silence was a presence hovering over them, the two of them staring at each other while Booth got his breath back.

"It seems as before that O'Connor was remiss in providing proper restraints, this time for _your_ legs," Brennan commented academically.

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Booth pointed out.

"On the contrary I was simply summarising both the obviousness and repetition of his errors," Brennan persisted.

"You think he wanted us to stop him?" Booth looked surprised ... and hopeful.

"While it isn't my usual practice to speculate in this regard I feel the evidence does lend support to that supposition," Brennan smiled when Booth groaned at her long winded and convoluted answer. "His remorse was obvious to see Booth," she relented, "even for me. I believe that he was mentally unstable and that during moments of logical clarity he knew his motives bore no real substance. His loss, instigated by his own hand, exacerbated an already existent mental condition. He wanted to stop, he just didn't know how. Our presence here gave him the opportunity and subconsciously he ensured that we would do what he couldn't."

"Thanks Bones," Booth smiled gratefully.

"You're welcome," Brennan smiled back, letting her eyes linger on his.

He broke their stare to look up at the wall above his heads. Turning his back to her he leapt into the air, grabbing at the rope and attempting to flick in over the hook without success. "That's not gonna work," he muttered, still looking up. Grabbing the ropes again he pulled, resting his weight as he took a step back and then swung his feet off the floor. When his shoes hit the wall Booth wound the rope around his wrists and pulled himself up.

"What are you doing?" Brennan asked, frowning as he groaned at the physical effort he was exerting, obviously suffering additional distress because of the blows O'Connor had dealt him.

"Getting us out of here," Booth ground out distractedly, using the rope to 'walk' up the wall, winding the excess around his wrists as he went. It was a display of pure muscle, much as his first move against O'Connor had been, muscle she sometimes forgot he possessed because it wasn't his defining characteristic, it wasn't the talent he relied on to get the job done. When he got close enough he gathered himself visibly, spearing off the wall with his feet as he flipped the rope over the hook and then dropped to the ground with barely a stumble.

"Very impressive," Brennan complimented him sincerely.

"We aim to please," Booth quipped with a cheeky grin. Sobering abruptly he dropped down to check O'Connor's pulse - with a glance and a small shake of his head he confirmed that the other man was dead. Straightening Booth looked around the room until his eyes landed on the sword display. Striding over he grabbed the lowest one with his still bound together hands. Squatting he rested the tip on the floor, holding the hilt between his knees, the blade pointing up. It took a few careful back and forth motions to break through the cable tie, separating his hands so that he could loosen the rope loops around his wrists and free himself completely.

Grabbing the sword again he hurried to her chair, wielding the blade to carefully cut her ties too.

It was like déjà vu, the way she launched herself into his arms the instance she was free. The sword dropped to the floor with a clatter as Booth responded by wrapping his arms around her. She knew that at the very least he had contusions on both his ribs and his jaw but she couldn't make herself hold him any looser – she needed to feel his strength, needed to assure herself that he really was okay. She kissed him first this time, pulling his head down and pressing her lips to his desperately, unaware that she was crying again.

"I thought he was going to kill you," she broke the kiss, burying her face against his neck, breathing him in. "Please Booth, _don't _do that to me again."

"It wasn't my idea!" Booth protested, rearing back to look at her, his expression shifting immediately into concern. Raising a hand to her cheek he used a thumb to wipe fresh tears from beneath her eyes. "Hey, what's this?"

"I'm sorry," Brennan let him look into her eyes for a few moments before dropping her head to his chest, her tears leaving patches of wetness on his dress shirt. "I'm so sorry Booth."

"It wasn't your fault," Booth stated firmly, pulling her chin back up so he could look at her. "None of this was okay. You said it yourself, O'Connor was sick and in that condition he'd have used anything he could to justify his actions."

"I know," Brennan put a hand to his cheek, and then lightly touched his lip, wincing in sympathy. "And yet I still find myself needing to apologise."

"Well then, apology accepted," Booth returned. Pulling her in again he buried his head in her hair, his breath warm against her neck. "Did you mean it?" he mumbled.

"Did I mean what?" Brennan smiled when he squeezed her a little harder than necessary. "Oh, did I mean it when I stated my feelings for you and agreed that my desires for the future align with yours?"

"Yes ... that," Booth raised his head and looked at her, his expression somewhat guarded.

"You mean you couldn't tell?" Brennan pretended surprise. "I thought you could always tell when someone was lying to you."

"Clearly not since you've been lying to me for seven years," he shot back.

"I never lied to you Booth," Temperance said with conviction. "Never. I believed that I understood your position and that it differed from my own. I simply responded accordingly. You never asked me if I loved you – if you had I would have been forced to respond in the affirmative."

"You're right," Booth shook his head. "There's no point to it but still, I can't help but think about what we could have been doing during all those years." He raised a brow suggestively.

"Show me now," Brennan invited, smiling.

That seemed to be all he needed to initiate a heated kiss. Temperance felt taken over by the moment, by him, but for once the feeling didn't scare her. She wanted him to claim her and he didn't disappoint. He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her, spinning to perch her on the first handy object at the right height. She wrapped her legs around him and held on tightly, pressing as close to him as she could get as his mouth devoured hers. She held nothing back, needing to get closer, to affirm that this was real, that they wouldn't be stepping back this time. She pulled his shirt from the back of his pants so she could feel the warm skin underneath ... shuddering at the heat he was generating and wanting only to be consumed by it. It was fanciful and overly emotional - and totally out of character based on her prior sexual encounters, but Brennan couldn't bring herself to care. Booth was what she wanted - what she _needed_. Now that the decision had been made she wanted nothing more than to consummate that committment. Booth responded to her urgency by running his hand up her thigh under her dress as he deepened their kiss, a passionate simulation of what they both wanted to be doing.

As the heated embrace continued Brennan was truly lost in Booth, truly unaware of her surroundings. It was the wholest, the most complete she'd ever felt.

* * *

"If you'll allow me to escort you personally," the hotel manager suggested, a middle aged, serious but personable man who'd taken in the situation in moments and responded with what Angela felt was the right level of seriousness.

"Thank you," Cam said, motioning for the team to fall in with her. They rode the service lifts down to the lower basement, exiting to a long corridor and turning right.

The manager swiped his card at an access point, the lights immediately flickering overhead and turning on. "This area hasn't been used for active storage in some years," he commented. "Only maintenance staff are supposed to have access and our logs would show none of them have been down here recently," he added as they walked into a large open area.

"Well I'd say they aren't the only ones with the key then," Hodgins nodded towards a large concrete platform, metal loops and abandoned ropes an ominous sign for all of them.

"Oh God," Angela rushed forward, swallowing back her sudden fear. "Do you think ...?" she looked at her husband fearfully, not wanting to voice her concerns.

"Relax Ange," Hodgins moved to stand beside her. "There's no blood - no signs that anything went on here other than an escape."

"If they got out then where are they?" Angela demanded.

"There are many rooms down here," the hotel manager reminded them of his presence. "It can be a maze for anyone unfamiliar with the hotel."

"Right, see," Hodgins smiled at Angela. "Can you show us the room where Houdini's replica tank is stored?"

"Of course, this way," the manager led them across the room to another corridor. They walked silently, a tense group of people all not very good at hiding their fear for what they'd find.

"Here it is," the manager swiped his card through another access reader and the lock clicked audibly.

Angela couldn't wait ... rushing forward she pushed open the door and hurried inside. At first all she saw were shelves of props. "Ange, wait," Hodgins grabbed for her hand, pulling her to his side. Angela urged him forward, the two leading the way past the shelves and further into the large room.

"Oh. My. God." Angela's incredulous statement was loud, her jaw actually dropping as she witnessed the tail end of a seriously hot and heavy kiss between two people who clearly no longer needed rescuing.

Jack bumped into her back, the two stumbling forward as they watched Booth unhurriedly finish kissing his partner before reluctantly letting Brennan go. She looked dazed, letting him lift her off the table so that her feet retouched the ground without saying a word. They looked at each other silently before breaking into matching smiles. Booth gave Brennan a seriously meaningful look full of promise as he took her hand and turned to face their audience. Brennan smoothed down her dress as she moved to stand beside him.

Angela watched their 'coupley' actions with delight, genuinely happy that they'd finally made progress in the right direction, regardless of the manner in which it had happened.

"Did you two just ...," Hodgins broke of midsentence, a smirk lurking on his face.

"Well, there goes that secret," Booth slanted a teasing glance at Brennan, his happiness apparent to everyone.

She smiled back, pulling him down and kissing him pointedly. "What secret?" she murmured, teasing him back.

"It's about time," Cam shared a conspiratorial look with Angela. "Looks like you were right – he _was_ having his wicked way with her."

"Hey, there is nothing wicked about my ways," Booth protested, wrapping his arm around Brennan's shoulders and urging her to head for the door. "How about we get out of here Baby, let the squints clean up after us?"

"They came all the way from DC to rescue us Booth - even though in actuality all they did was open the door. _You_ were to one to rescue us," Bren returned in a reasonable tone. "Perhaps we should call in the FBI to take care of O'Connor and gather the required evidence? Oh, and don't call me Baby."

"Cam will call the FBI - it's all there in that room," Booth voice drifted back to them as he guided his partner from the room and down the corridor. "You know, you could try out the 'babe', just for a few weeks. It might grow on you." There was a moment's pause where Brennan must have said someting and then Booth's voice came again. "Hodgins, which way is out?"

Grinning, Jack paused to kiss his wife exuberantly before hurrying after his friends, yelling an "On my way," as he left the room, a silent Wendell close at his heels. Poor Wendell - that scene they'd walked in on had obviously rendered the younger man speechless.

"Do you think things will be more relaxed now?" Angela asked Cam as they followed the new couple.

"Not on your life," Cam laughed. "They'll just have more ... interesting ways of making up after one of their arguments."

"Jack's going to be irritated when he realises we could have been just as effective by staying at home."

"I'm sure you have equally interesting ways of making it up to him," Cam teased.

"Oh you better believe it honey," Angela raised an eyebrow suggestively, the two breaking into decidely womanly laughter.

**Authors Note:**

Yes, I know, a _very _long chapter but I couldn't see a logical place to break it that wouldn't have hindered the flow. I hope it was dramatic because after reading it a hundred times it didn't seem that way to me anymore! Have no fear, it sounds like an ending but there is another chapter (of fluff, mush, and ... well you can guess!) to come. Although I don't have a planned sequel I have no intention of finishing my version of Booth and Bones here. As one reviewer so rightly pointed out last chapter, if I stopped here it would just be validating what the show's writers believe - that once B&B are together the show would end. Not so ... although I doubt my ability to come up with a case worthy of following this one I'm sure with some thought I can come up with something to prove that B&B together can be just as interesting as keeping them apart! So, last chapter for this one coming up very soon and then after that, it may take me a while but there will definitely be something!


	17. Beginning

**Authors Note:**

Just a little warning that the last scene is probably getting close to an M rating - if you're not old enough you should probably not read that part (it'll be obvious which bit I mean). Otherwise, on with the last chapter!

**Chapter 17: Beginning**

"_You love someone, you open yourself up to suffering, that's the sad truth. Maybe they'll break your heart, maybe you'll break their heart and never be able to look at yourself in the same way. __Those are the risks. That's the burden. Like wings, they have weight, we feel that weight on our backs, but they are a burden that lifts us." Temperance Brennan_

Of course it wasn't as easy as just walking out of the Bellagio and going home, although Booth toyed with the idea of doing just that. Unfortunately home was a five hour plane ride away and before they could even get to that he and Bones had to spend the rest of the morning going over everything that had happened. They'd both been on the other side of the table in the past – victims of the same criminal – and the reminders didn't sit well with either of them. Worse than that, talking about it while leaving out all the personal details created distance between them once the initial rush of feeling and attraction had been tempered to a manageable level.

"You okay?" Booth put a hand over his partners once it looked like they were finally done. He glanced over at Bones, sitting on a FBI standard issue - translation damned uncomfortable - interview chair beside him and frowned. "You look tired."

"That's because I am," she replied. "I'm not sure that several hours of nitrous oxide induced unconsciousness counts as rest Booth, meaning -,"

"Meaning it's been a hell of a long night ... day ... it means we've been up a very long time," Booth concluded for her.

"Yes," Bones agreed simply.

"We'll be out of here soon, I promise," Booth reassured her. He wanted to pull her closer, offer her some level of personal comfort but the changed status of their relationship had him hesitating. If they hadn't both 'confessed' their feelings, if they'd still been just partners then he'd have hugged her partner to partner and offered whatever support he could.

But they weren't 'just partners' anymore. Their changed status was a done deal as far as Booth was concerned ... he didn't think even Bones could go back on what she'd revealed but if she tried he wasn't letting her back down. It was that simple. He needed her which was something in itself but she needed him too and that was everything. _She_ was everything and as he'd watched her struggle through explaining Christian O'Connor's motivations and the origins of seven years of murder he'd wanted nothing more than to wrap her in his arms and swear that he'd protect her – either that or kiss her into senselessness so she'd forget even the suggestion that somehow she was responsible for setting O'Connor off. He didn't do either of those things because honestly he didn't know what she'd think of that or how ready she was to declare them a couple to the rest of the world – deliberately that is, since their squints could hardly be left doubting given what they'd walked in on.

Yes, Bones had admitted to loving him and agreed that she could believe in a long term future for them because he believed it. That was the big picture stuff ... it was all the little things they had to learn about each other that had him feeling his way uncertainly. They were _more_ than the partners they'd been the day before but a few heated kisses in the midst of life threatening circumstances wasn't enough to transition them to that new paradigm.

"We have everything we need for now Agent Booth," Agent Michaels returned to the interview room with a grateful smile on her face. "You and Doctor Brennan are free to go home. If we have any further questions we'll pass them through the DC office."

"Right," Booth rose, putting a hand to Bones' back as she stood beside him. His muscles protested the movement after so many hours sitting down – putting a hand surreptitiously to his ribs he quickly dropped his hand again when he saw his partner's narrowed glance.

"Given that you sent Doctor Hodgins and your team back in his helicopter several hours ago I took the liberty of organising your flights back to DC," Michaels continued. "Everything was booked until mid afternoon so you've got a bit of a wait which should allow you plenty of time to refresh yourselves. We recovered your personal effects from hotel storage but obviously we can't release them to you yet."

"Evidence," Booth grimaced, looking down at his blood splattered dress shirt and scuffed pants. Bones looked more put together than she should given the events that had occurred since she'd first put that dress on but he knew she'd appreciate a shower and a change of clothes too.

"The manager of the Bellagio offered you the use of the hotel's facilities as well as whatever personal items you require ...," Agent Michaels began.

"No," Bones said abruptly.

Booth looked at her with a raised brow.

"I know it's irrational but I don't want to go back there," she admitted.

"I thought you might say that," Agent Michaels smiled, earning Booth's gratitude as Bones immediately relaxed. "You can use our facilities. If you give me a list of personal requirements I'll see that you get what you need."

"Thank you," Bones smiled gratefully.

"Right. This way then," Michaels motioned them forward.

"Is there a medical clinic nearby?" Bones asked briskly, staying where she was.

"Are you in need of medical attention Doctor Brennan?" Michaels looked concerned.

"I am well," Bones replied. "I believe that Booth however has at least one cracked rib and should be seen by a doctor before we return home."

"I'm fine Bones," Booth dismissed her concerns casually.

"You're not," she shot back impatiently. "I have observed repeated instances of you checking your ribs and you tense every time you move."

"Bones," Booth began.

"I would feel better if you saw a doctor before we leave," Bones looked into his eyes, her concern more than evident.

Booth looked at her silently for a few moments and then nodded, not sure what to make of what had just happened. Was she cashing in the 'girlfriend' card already? Using their emotional connection to urge him to do what she wanted? '_Like you haven't done the same thing in the past_," he told himself ruefully, thinking of all the times he'd prefaced an argument about her eating or sleeping more with something like 'I need my partner in top form'. If she was doing the same now then he had only himself to blame – she'd learnt that technique from him.

"There's a clinic we utilise regularly a block from here," Agent Michael's gave them directions, waiting for them to make their lists and then promising to get them seen to while Booth was being checked over.

* * *

"You know this could have waited until we got home, right?" Booth murmured, looking around the waiting room of the busy local clinic. He felt out of place and uncomfortable and sure that everyone else was looking at them, wondering at the couple dressed for an evening out that had obviously gone very wrong.

"I never noticed your reluctance to seek medical attention before," Bones swivelled in her seat to assess him. He didn't like the calculation in her eyes and when she leaned towards him, putting a hand right where it would hurt the most and getting an involuntary groan of pain from him he saw why. "You're not fine," she reiterated, turning back to her own observations of those around them.

"I know what a broken rib feels like," he knew he was being stubborn but wasn't willing to stop just yet. "What do you want to bet Bones? You say cracked or worse, I say just bruised. Whoever's right gets to ask for something from the other."

"As a recovered gambler it would be unwise for you to engage in a wager with me Booth," she said primly.

"When I gambled I usually won," he reminded her, cocky grin in place. "Of course, if you're scared of what I might ask for –."

"Seeley Booth?"

They both turned to see one of the attending nurses waiting for someone to respond.

"Last chance Bones," Booth said teasingly, getting up and looking down at her.

"Very well," she surprised him both by agreeing and by getting up as well.

"Bones?" he frowned, frozen in place.

"I wish to accompany you," she said it formally but the uncertainty was there. Booth wasn't sure what was driving it. Was she reluctant to be separated so soon after what they'd gone through? Or did she feel the need to confirm for herself that he was in fact okay? "If that's all right?" she added, looking at him hesitantly.

"It's all right with me," he said simply, grabbing her hand and squeezing firmly.

She nodded, smiled and then tugged him forward. The nurse confirmed his identity and then escorted them to an examination room to await the doctor, leaving then alone in the small room.

"This is kind of nice Bones," Booth took a seat on the exam bed, grinning across at his partner. "You worried I was going to cheat on our bet?"

"On the contrary I simply wanted to ensure you wouldn't downplay your injuries to expedite our return home," Bones said logically.

"So you're not gonna get all soft and clingy on me?" he teased, grabbing her hand and pulling her in to stand between his legs. Bones let out a soft grunt as he tugged until she fell lightly against his chest.

"Booth – your ribs," she protested but he could see the faint smile playing across her lips. Lips he decided he couldn't wait another moment to taste again, now that they were finally alone. Threading his hand through the hair at the back of her hair he urged her closer, his lips mere moments from touching hers.

"Agent Booth," the doctor's arrival had them breaking apart abruptly. Booth felt flushed and it wasn't just the embarrassment had having been caught 'making out'. Bones on the other hand looked like it was an everyday occurrence for her, nodding professionally to the doctor as she moved to stand beside him.

"I'm Doctor Evelyn Harper. What can we do for you today?"

"Agent Booth was in an ... altercation early this morning," Bones spoke before Booth could get the first word in. "I have since observed him testing the region between the third and fifth right ribs on multiple occasions and as you can see he is displaying severe bruising over the left zygoma and mandible. He lost consciousness for approximately five minutes but hasn't exhibited any signs of concussion."

"You were hit in the stomach as well as in the face Agent Booth?" the doctor translated Bones' words succinctly.

"That's correct, although, as I was telling my partner before we wasted your valuable time, nothing's broken," Booth smiled charmingly. "My ribs and my face are just bruised is all ... along with my ego," he murmured under his breath.

"Well, you just let me do my job and we'll have you back to work in no time," Doctor Harper said, looking from Booth to Bones with an amused expression.

"I believe that x-rays would best inform us of Booth's true condition," Bones stated firmly.

"I understand ...," the doctor broke off, looking for an introduction.

"Sorry, this is my ... ah, this is Doctor Temperance Brennan," Booth tried to smooth over his brief stumble with a charming smile. "_Nice going Seeley_," he thought to himself, struck again with the awkwardness of the first stages in a romantic relationship. Professionally Bones was Doctor Temperance Brennan of the Jeffersonian Institution, those words flowing smoothly off his tongue in multiple situations. Less formally he'd often just introduced her as his partner. But she wasn't in the exam room with him for professional reasons and a part of him hadn't wanted to slot her into that professional role. She was Bones – _his_ Bones – and he wanted to declare that but calling her his 'girlfriend' when they'd never been out on a true date seemed ... presumptuous.

"Medical doctor?" Evelyn asked curiously.

"No, forensic anthropology," Bones explained.

"Well, Doctor Brennan," Doctor Harper began. "While I understand your concerns for your friend I'm sure you'll agree that it's best to follow correct procedures. Agent Booth," she turned to him with a smile, "if you'll remove your shirt I'll examine you and determine if further action is required."

"Of course," Booth shot Bones a quick look and then began unbuttoning his shirt.

Bones shifted away from the bed to give him and the doctor room, her eyes locked to his. "I could ... maybe I should wait outside?" she offered. He could see the wheels spinning in her head as the 'intimacy' of the situation finally occurred to her. Booth undressing in front of her with a doctor present was a declaration of implied intimacy between them. She moved and, sure that she was about to rush from the room, Booth grabbed her hand.

"No, stay," he insisted, pulling her back beside him again.

"Booth," Bones protested, looking unsure as she glanced at the doctor and then back to him. Booth was aware that Doctor Harper was watching them interestedly but he ignored that in favour of putting Bones at ease.

"Hey, it's not like you haven't seen my chest before," he joked in a low tone. "At least this time you aren't picking evidence off me with a pair of tweezers or wheeling me through the lab for everyone to see."

Bones laughed and he felt the relief at having put her at ease. "Yes, in comparison this is a far less awkward situation," she agreed. "Very well ... I'll stay."

"Great, glad we got that sorted out," Booth returned to unbuttoning his shirt, shrugging it off his shoulders once he had it fully open. He grimaced with pain when he had to twist to remove it, his hands colliding with Bones' as she moved to help him. They shared a smile that continued when she helped him with his singlet too until his chest was bare.

"Yes, there is severe bruising," Doctor Harper made no comment on their routine, pressing gloved hands to his ribs. She was gentle but Booth couldn't stop the flinch when she touched the right – or rather the wrong spot. "I think you've been lucky Agent Booth – you'll be sore for a few days but I don't think anything is broken."

"See, what did I tell you?" Booth shot Bones a winning smile.

"You can tell that without an x-ray?" Bones asked, her eyes narrowed.

"After twenty years experience yes I can," Doctor Harper didn't take offence. "I'm sure you are similarly confident in your own field Doctor Brennan."

"She can tell the gender and age of a skeleton just by looking at it," Booth offered proudly.

"My point exactly," Harper smiled as she put a hand to Booth's cheek, turning his face so that the light shone in the right place. "Again, bruised but not broken," she declared after checking his cheek and jaw bones. She shifted away for a moment, returning with a small penlight she used to shine light into his eyes. After checking his pupil responses she nodded, clearly happy with the results. "No signs of concussion either. I think a hot shower and a few days of rest will do wonders Agent Booth."

"I won't say I told you so," Booth grinned at Bones.

"You do realise that in declaring that you won't say 'I told you so' you have in fact said I told you so," Bones said pointedly.

"See, now you're getting it Bones," he teased, eyes twinkling. "And if I'm not mistaken you owe me something of my choosing."

"Within reason," Bones added. "What do you want?"

"I think I'll hold off on claiming my prize," Booth decided, enjoying the way her expression tightned when she realised she hadnt set enough parameters before agreeing to his bet. "You never know when something like that will come in handy, especially in our line of work."

"I'm sure the two of you have a very interesting story to tell," Doctor Harper tossed her gloves in the trash. "You're free to get dressed Agent Booth. We have an arrangement with the FBI so just sign the form at the front desk on your way out."

"Thank you Doctor," Booth said gratefully.

"Yes, Thank you Doctor Harper," Bones added. "Although your methods were not as rigorous as I initially would have expected I found your approach both informative and reassuring."

"I'm glad I could help," Evelyn said with an amused smile. "I'll leave you to get dressed," she added, nodding to the two before leaving them alone.

"So, now we can go home?" Booth put a little pleading in his voice.

"I am satisfied that you're fit to travel," Bones declared, moving to help him with his shirt again. She stood in front of him, carefully buttoning up his shirt and that seemed just as intimate as when she'd unbuttoned it.

"Bones," he put his hands over hers, stopping her movements. She looked up at him, their eyes locking together. Raising one hand he smoothed a thumb across her cheek, the bruise where O'Connor had hit her clearly visible. "Should have had the Doc check you out too," he murmured.

"My cheek doesn't require medical treatment Booth," Bones replied softly.

"Maybe just this then," Booth leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to the bruise.

"You realise there's no scientific basis for the concept of kissing an injury better to aid in recovery," Bones said in an academic tone even as she leaned into him.

"Just go with it Bones," he instructed in a low tone, placing a string of tiny kisses across her cheek. He felt her smile and shifted to kiss her lips just as softly. He meant to leave it at that but Bones grabbed his lapels, pulling him closer in a demand for more. He deepened the kiss ... as Bones would say 'there was tongue contact'. _Lots_ of tongue contact. He wasn't sure what would have happened next if a nurse hadn't opened the door, obviously expecting the room to be vacated.

"Oh! Sorry!" she muttered, clearly embarrassed.

"No, we shouldn't have ..., ah, we were just leaving," Booth stammered, not missing Bones' amused smile at his embarrassment. Levering himself off the bed he grabbed Bones' hand and dragged her from the room. "Let's not make a habit of that," he told her in a low tone, smiling for the receptionist as he signed the required form.

"Outward expressions of sexual interest are perfectly natural Booth," she told him academically as they exited the medical clinic and turned back towards the FBI offices.

"Maybe," he put his arm around her and steered them into the doorway of a shop that was closed for the day. "But," he pressed her into the door, crowding her with his body, "I'd prefer it," he leaned down until his lips were just shy of touching hers, "if our first time was somewhere," he gave her a sexy grin, "_private_." Closing the remaining distance he pressed a hard kiss to her lips, breaking away before it could get out of hand. "Seven years Bones," he said simply, letting her interpret that any way she wanted. Taking her hand he pulled her from the doorway and started walking again.

* * *

Too many hours later they were finally in a cab and pulling up outside Booth's apartment. They'd showered and changed into the casual clothes Agent Michaels had procured before she'd driven them to the airport herself. Bones had caught a few hours of sleep on the plane while Seeley had settled back beside her, watching her sleep as he tried to forget how close he'd come to losing her ... knowing that moment when he'd been sure O'Connor was about to shoot her would stay with him for a long time.

Back on home turf neither had been ready to call the day done so he suggested they watch a movie at his place and wind down.

"Just let me check my machine," he put a hand to her back, urging her inside and closing the door behind them.

Bones nodded, settling herself on the couch and resting her head back. Booth pressed the playback button on his answering machine, listening with a fond smile as Parker reminded him that next weekend they were going to a careers expo. The event was way too old for his ten year old son but Parker wanted to see the hands on science exhibits, something Booth was sure Bones had a hand in informing Parker of. He was okay with that - it was just another indicator of why he had no concerns that his son would react unfavourably to the change in his relationship with Bones - the little boy loved her too.

"Drink?" he offered, heading for the kitchen.

"I could definitely use a drink right now," Bones agreed fervently, straightening on the couch when he returned and handed her a beer, moving to sit beside her with his own bottle.

They drank in silence for a time ... silence that started out as companionable but swiftly moved into awkward.

"Okay, this is insane," Booth finally declared, swivelling so he could look at Bones. "Do you want to talk about this?"

"About what?" she returned, brows raised.

"About why we're sitting here _not_ talking," Booth shot back impatiently.

"I'm fully cognisant of the reason for my silence," Bones replied complacently.

"Well, share with the class Temperance," he urged sarcastically when she followed that declaration with silence.

"I was considering the acceptable time frame to allow before requesting that we have sex."

"What?" Booth knew his face would be a picture of cartoon incredulity right then but she'd seriously surprised him. That was so not what he'd expected her to say, although ... really, if he wasn't so tired and off balance himself he probably should have.

"I was thinking about our having sex and wondering how soon that was likely to occur," Bones rephrased.

"I heard you the first time," Booth flopped back on the couch beside her, looking up at the ceiling praying for guidance.

"Then why did you request that I repeat myself?"

"Because ..., you know what, never mind," Booth shifted again so that he could watch her as he asked his next question. "You don't want to talk about what happened the past couple of days?"

"Not unless you feel the need." Bones turned too, putting a hand just above his knee and sending his pulse jumping forward. "Do _you_ want to talk about it?"

"I can't believe I'm saying this but yeah, I do," Booth put his hand over hers, keeping the contact but stopping her from moving her hand anywhere even more ... stimulating. "O'Connor forced confessions out of both of us Bones and while I have no intention of letting either of us back down it's not how I would have chosen to start this. Doesn't it bother you?"

"Many things bother me Booth but since we can't go back and change them discussing them serves no real purpose."

"Would you have ever confessed to feeling anything for me without your life being threatened?"

"In actual fact it was _your_ life that was threatened, and in all honesty I don't know," Booth admitted. "When I discussed it with Doctor Sweets he urged me to consider talking to you and while in general I think that psychology has little value, in this regard if he'd repeated his message with enough regularity I might have eventually seen it from his point of view."

"Wait, you talked to _Sweets _about this?" Booth felt slightly horrified at the idea. "He _knew_ how you felt before I did?"

"I didn't voluntarily talk to him," Bones said defensively. "He surmised and I couldn't dissuade him from his beliefs." She narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. "Are you saying that you never discussed your feelings with anyone before revealing them to me?"

"Ah," Booth swallowed nervously, "not exactly. Sweets knew from way back, Wyatt too, and ah ... Angela might have suggested something when I spoke to her yesterday. But you know, like you she guessed and I didn't agree. I just didn't disagree either."

"So we concur that recent events simply sped up something that would have potentially happened in time," Bones summarised. "Does that satisfy your desire to talk about this?"

"No!" Booth frowned, frustrated. "I want to talk about what you said Bones ... was any of that for O'Connor's benefit?"

"I don't know what you mean Booth."

"Were you speaking solely to me or was it just an act for him," Booth clarified. "I know you meant what you said at the end there Bones, I just need to know how much weight to put on the rest of it." He was pretty sure she'd been speaking to him but he needed her to admit it before she could compartmentalise the implications away.

Bones looked down at her lap, clenching her hands together. Booth reached over and covered them with his, moments later feeling the hot tear that splashed against his skin. "He was going to kill you," Bones kept her eyes down, the tremble in her voice evidence of her struggle to speak. "I spoke truthfully because if I hadn't and he'd shot you I would have blamed myself for the rest of my life."

"What bothers you the most?" Booth asked gently, resisting the urge to just gather her in close and never let go. "Your fear that something will happen to me? Or what you'd be willing to do to ensure that nothing does?"

"Both!" Bones finally looked up at him earnestly. "How do you live with this constant worry Booth? It's distracting and ... and irrational and I don't like it!"

"_Hey_," putting his hand to her cheek he stroked her tears away, gratified when she instinctively turned her face into the contact. He stopped for a moment, considering what he was going to say next. "Did you worry about me any less while I was in Afghanistan and you were on Moo Poo Poo?"

"Maluku," Bones corrected impatiently.

"I knew that," Booth held in a smile, watching her closely. "Just answer the question."

"No," Bones looked at him, the torment there for him to read. "No - if I were able to accurately measure the energy expended I believe it would show that my level of concern was in fact higher, even though all logic says it should have been the opposite."

"What does that tell you?"

"That remaining apart wasn't an effective method for correcting the problem," Bones summarised.

"It wasn't for me either," Booth offered. Settling back again he put an arm around her and finally drew her close until her head rested on his chest. "When you love someone it's natural to worry about them Bones. Comes with the territory. You get used to it but you never completely let it go. It's gonna be harder for us because what we do is dangerous." He squeezed her tighter for a moment. "I can't tell you not to pull out all the stops if I need saving because I'd do the same. I can't tell you what I'd do, what I've already done, to save you." He rested his head against hers and spoke with quiet promise. "I meant what I said to O'Connor too. I'd kill for you Temperance - I'd add as many to my tally as it takes to keep you safe and pay the price without question. I wouldn't hesitate for a second. You need to be okay with that."

"Strangely I find your alpha male behaviour to be both reassuring and quite stimulating."

"Good to know." He laughed suddenly, reminded again of just one of the many reasons why he loved her. No one could beat Bones for in your face honesty ... when she being honest with herself of course.

"Were you equally honest during our recital for O'Connor's benefit?" Bones uncannily echoed his thoughts and he knew immediately what she was referring to.

"Finding out that you kept quiet every time the issue of our true feelings came up made me angry Bones," he said honestly. "You know, thinking back to all the times I watched you get in a cab and leave me behind, when I was sure I'd never get to be with you like I wanted to ... I get why you felt you had to do that but I can't deny that it hurt."

"You may not believe this Booth but I believe there is something worse than standing on the sidewalk watching someone you love driving away." Bones shifted to look up at him, letting him see the emotion swimming in her eyes. "It's sitting in the back of that cab and looking out the window at someone you love, knowing that circumstances and the things that inherently make you who you are preclude you from revealing it, from taking what you want. It's understanding that if you tried and failed you would damage them and never be able to look at yourself in the same way again."

"You're not going to fail Bones," Booth stated firmly, leaning in to kiss her. "_We're _not going to fail ... and it goes both ways. When we succeed you'll never look at yourself the same way again either."

"I look forward to seeing it as you do," Bones said simply, humbling him.

"I love you Temperance Brennan," Booth declared, the formality feeling necessary for so many reasons, culminating in the way her smile seemed to rise from deep inside her at his words, making her eyes glow.

"Despite my continuing concerns I find it necessary to return your declaration," Bones replied.

"So ... return it then," Booth said pointedly when she remained silent.

"I love you too Seeley Booth," she declared with complete seriousness.

She opened her mouth to say something further but he stopped her with a finger on her lips. "Aa," he told her firmly. "No caveats, no warnings, no 'Bonesy' declarations based on anthropological whatevers. Let's just rest on the simplicity of having declared ourselves for now, okay?"

"Very well." Bones looked at him with that calculating, sexy, full of intentions expression. "So, can we have sex now or doesn't that fit with your -,"

He stopped her with a kiss, taking over her mouth as they both quickly remembered where they'd broken off last time. Maybe he should have slowed them down, insisted on some time for them to get used to being a couple before they consummated their new relationship. But Bones wasn't wired that way and with the degree of feeling he had for her his wiring was screaming at him to just take her and show her what making love was all about, before something or someone could intervene and stop them. They'd never been on an actual date but in some ways he'd been courting her for years - it felt like the right time to reap what they'd both sowed over seven years.

"Bedroom," he ground out, hauling her up and straight into his arms. He carried her, not really caring at that point if she thought it an unnecessary display of masculine strength or an undesired statement of their respective roles. She didn't say anything though - not even to point out that he shouldn't be carrying her with his bruised ribs. He'd rested enough on the plane to already feel better but even if he wasn't there was no way a couple of bruised ribs was going to stop him. Bones tucked her legs into his stomach to make it easier as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed herself close.

Once there, Booth held her as he pulled back the covers on his bed and then reverently settled her gently to the mattress as though she were the most precious thing he'd ever carried. She watched him with uncharacteristic silence as he ran his fingers down each of her legs in turn, caressing her bare skin and then removing her shoes. Pulling her up he slowly unbuttoned her blouse, revealing the simple bra she wore underneath. This time he rested his hands under the shirt, cupping her shoulders and then running his hands down her arms as he lowered the blouse and then removed it. Her skirt got the same treatment and then he was urging her to stretch out again.

She was beautiful ... Booth had known it, lived with that fact for six years, and still found his perceptions renewed by viewing her through a lovers eyes. He let himself just look at her first, the delicacy of her form something usually lost in the midst of the work they did. She was tough too and he saw that as well, in the definition of muscles in her arms and legs. And God, she was so damn sexy - legs he'd beg to have wrapped around him, a narrow waist he wanted to span with his hands and Lord, her lush curves, her breasts ... the beauty of her face enhanced by her knowledge of the next few hours of their future, knowledge that had burning desire rising in the depths of her eyes. He'd been within her sphere of influence for too long because he found himself thinking about the human design and how everything about her, everything that made her a stunning example of the female form seemed specifically tailored to plug into everything that made him a man. He was already fully aroused but there was no urgency to do something with that beyond show her what they'd both only dreamed about for years. He wanted to wipe every other sexual experience from her psyche until there was only him - her prior views on sex as a pleasurable distracion weren't intimidating, they didn't make him nervous to perform ... they challenged him to change her view in the best possible way.

"You are so hot," he whispered in her ear, hovering over her, still fully dressed ... hovering but not touching.

"Perhaps you should remove your clothing as well," she smiled suggestively, "so that I can collect sufficient evidence to return the compliment."

"All in good time."

Booth started at her temple, the motion of his lips down her cheek across to that place below her ear barely qualifying as kisses. He smiled when she shivered, repeating the gesture. He'd wondered over the years how she'd react to the various caresses he imagined delivering and set about finding out. In doing so he paid homage to her, earning the right through her welcoming responses to remove the rest of her clothing until she was naked before him.

"I want to feel you," she murmured, running her hands up under his t-shirt and defining his muscles with her fingers. She had him shivering at the simple contact, enough that he broke away, standing to shed his clothes without ceremony so that he could give her what she wanted.

And then Booth stretched out beside her, pulling Bones back to him so that they were spooned his front to her back. He shifted her hair aside and pressed a heated kiss to the back of her neck, wrapping his arms around her middle. She responded by wrapping her arms over his and pressing back into him, capturing his arousal between them. Everything slowed until it was just the two of them breathing together, acquainting each other to what it meant to be intimate at the most basic level.

"We never talked about why O'Connor's victims were all couples on the cusp of marriage," Bones' voice barely stirred the silence beween them.

"No," Booth agreed, tightening his arms protectively. It was hard to feel even the small amount of gratitude Seeley acknowledged was there within himself - O'Connor had killed fourteen people and would have added he and Bones to the total without blinking. But even with that Booth _did _feel a sliver of gratitude because events had precipitated the change in his relationship with Bones. That had him waiting to see what she would say rather than protesting that she'd brought the topic to their bed.

"I believe he thought it was a kindness to sacrifice them on their wedding day - at the pinnacle of their happiness together," Bones explained. "He thought they'd never be as happy after that day. He was wrong."

"How so?" Booth nuzzled his face between her shoulder blades, breathing hotly across her skin.

"Although I don't have imperical evidence to support my conclusions I now believe that part of being with the right person is the expectation that shared feelings will strengthen and grow over time," she said with an earnest logic. Her fingers caressed his forearms and she continued. "I realise now that my regard for you has broadened since I first admitted internally that I had these feelings - despite receiving no direct input from you. I ignored that because I believed love to be transient. I am ... content that O'Connor was wrong ... that _I _was wrong."

"You continue to amaze me," Booth shifted so that she was lying on her back, holding his weight up on his forearms as he hovered over her again. "You're right Bones. And I bet those thirty, forty and fifty years married old men would all tell you the same thing. That they love their partners more now than they did when they got hitched. That's the way it should be." He leaned down, putting his own feelings into the the kiss he gave her. "That's _the _way it will be," he promised.

She nodded, tears brimming over. He had to kiss them away - seeing her cry had always cut him deep and no comfort he'd offered had ever felt like enough. That kiss was all it took to unleash the passion between them. It was a rush of sensations and impressions - he'd remember for a long time after how it felt but not specifically what they each did to get to the point when finally, for the first time he was buried inside her and they were as close as they could get. They paused to saver that feeling of complete intimacy and then the urge to complete the act took over, driving them to move together. He'd needed to be with her like this and it was only as they reached the pinnacle that he appreciated that. He'd needed her just as she needed him and it was everything and more.

"I love you," he whispered it again just because he could, feeling her smile against his chest even as she dropped over the edge into sleep, leaving him once again to his thoughts.

He didn't expect their relationship to be easy - she was stubborn and opinionated and there was no way she'd switch off the logic and reason and sheer bluntness of approach just because she'd admitted that she loved him and wanted to be with him. He had no intention of caving to her approach either, so yeah, there'd be differences of opinion and probably flat out arguments too but it was all good.

Bones was everything and Booth finally got to show her that. As for everything else ... well, he wouldn't have it any other way.

**The End.**

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Authors Note:

Apologies for the delay with the last chapter - always tough to finish the editing and just let the story go when you get to the last chapter. I wanted to post rather than reply to reviews from the previous chapter - I will get to those soon but thank you everyone who did review for taking the time. This is the point where I ask respectfully that you review this last chapter... in my prior experience the final chapter tends to result in less reviews, leaving me wondering whether the ending was disappointing. I'd _hate _to go away with that impression for this story.

Thanks once again to everyone who read, alerted, favourited and in particular reviewed this story. You've all made my introduction to Bones fanfic an amazing experience! Thank you all for letting me muck around in this very cool new playground - the new equipment rocks and I am definitely going to check out how everyone else is using them now I've finished my story. I've already alerted a few stories to save for future reading and look forward to discovering all the lovely gems I'm sure are posted here.

Until the next story ... bye for now!


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